


Should've Brought a Bag

by BetanSurvey (Scedasticity)



Category: Farscape
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:19:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scedasticity/pseuds/BetanSurvey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew deals with an... unusual threat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Should've Brought a Bag

**Author's Note:**

> My first posted fanfic ever, so it's probably fitting this is the first thing I've attempted to put on AO3. This was written way back during the post- _Fractures_ hiatus and with no knowledge of any of the episodes to follow.

####### - Part 1

John stared glumly down at the plate of food cubes. After everything else that had gone wrong lately, it was insult on top of injury. They’d had no luck in finding Scorpius, most of the crew was still *extremely* dubious about the whole quest, and Aeryn-- *Let’s not go there.* All in all, not good.

So was it so much to ask for, that the food cubes be... well, not less edible than usual?

He still didn’t know whether it was Rygel, Chiana, or Jool who had bought the... things down on the commerce planet. None of them would admit it, but it had to be one of them. He’d been busy in his fruitless search for information on the command carrier, dragging D’Argo along the whole time. Aeryn, not surprisingly, hadn’t left Moya. And Crais wouldn’t have been buying provisions. No, it had to be Rygel, Chiana, or Jool. Maybe Jool, not knowing enough to inspect the merchandise first. John couldn’t picture even Rygel purchasing *these* food cubes. All sorts of bizarre food, yes, but not bizarre *food cubes*.

He poked one of them with his fork.

It jiggled.

Like jello, only the wrong consistency. A cross between jello and tofu, covered with a tiny oil slick to give them that... *unique* appearance. John hadn’t yet checked to see if they felt as slimy as they looked.

*I’m losing my appetite.*

+++

His appetite still hadn’t returned several arns later when D’Argo found him working on his module. Somehow John found himself doing that most days, even when there wasn’t any work that really needed to be done. At least it presented the illusion of usefulness.

“John...” the Luxan said.

“Yep.”

“We called you for dinner.”

John sighed, not looking up from the module. “And I said I wasn’t hungry.

“You need to eat,” D’Argo replied, then lowered his voice. “And Aeryn won’t be there. She ate alone, earlier.”

Surprise, surprise. At least she wasn’t avoiding just him. Of course, it would be better for her if she were, if she’d only let *someone* help... *Enough. She takes time.* “Great, just great. But I’m still not hungry.” Incredibly enough, though, his lack of appetite had nothing to do with Aeryn, for once. Not that there was any way in hezmana he’d admit the *real* reason. *Don’t like the food cubes. Yeah, that’d go over real well.* “I, uh... had a snack.”

D’Argo looked disbelieving. “You need to eat, John,” he repeated.

“I did!” John protested. “I just don’t want to eat now.”

It was true, in a manner of speaking. He’d choked down one of the horrible food cubes -- jellfu cubes, he’d dubbed them internally -- and just barely prevented it from making a repeat appearance. The texture alone was enough to make him gag. Thick, slimy, jiggly... But the taste was worse. And indescribable. And lingering -- the frelling jellfu had coated the inside of his mouth, and he’d downed two cups of water before realizing he’d have to get a dentic. Two dentics. Even now, an oily, putrid taste lurked behind the familiar minty freshness, turning his stomach at the mere thought of eating anything else. Right now, he didn’t think he could even have eaten *real* food... *Well, chocolate.* And pizza. And beer. Nothing else, though.

“John, you have to--”

“D’Argo, please. I ate something earlier that didn’t agree with me, all right?” At the Luxan’s look of total bewilderment, John hurried to explain. “I mean, something that made me feel sick. So--”

“What, food cubes made you feel sick?” D’Argo asked incredulously. “They’re just food cubes.”

*I knew it.* “Well, chalk it up to another inferior human thing, okay? Because I don’t want to eat anything right now, especially not those food cubes.” John turned back to his module. *Food cubes, ha. The only place on Earth those things would pass for food is an elementary school.*

D’Argo shifted -- John couldn’t see his expression, but it was probably resigned. “All right. If you continue to feel ill--”

John looked up long enough to force a grin at D’Argo and wave him away. “I’ll talk to Jool about it, yeah.” Not that he expected it would be necessary. Most mild food poisoning went away on its own, fairly quickly.

*Only problem is, do we have anything other than jellfu on board?*

He paused for a moment, then closed up the toolbox and put it away. John was pretty sure there were some ordinary food cubes in storage somewhere. And if the jellfu was genuinely making him sick -- which it was -- he felt perfectly justified in making sure there were enough real food cubes for him. If everyone else thought there was nothing wrong with the jellfu, fine, they could eat it.

John made his way through Moya’s familiar corridors, wishing his stomach would settle down. He’d only eaten one of the horrible things. *Come on, digest it already.* Frell, he hoped it didn’t cause his intestines as many problems as his stomach... *Frell.*

The cargo hold was a mess. He should have come to supervise the unloading. Containers were knocked over, piled haphazardly around the room, and some had their lids off. Alarm bells went off inside John’s head and he hurried over to the nearest open container, not sure what he expected to see -- karrack metallites? parasites? Boolite bits?

*Nope, it’s worse than that.* John sighed, turned the container upright, and slammed a lid on it. No reason to look at the jellfu any more than he had to.

Grumbling under his breath, John started rearranging the containers, closing them and setting them neatly in stacks. *Must’ve been Rygel, snurching a snack. Though why he’d want to eat this dren is beyond me.* Maybe they were Hynerian Home-Style food cubes. *He’d just better have gotten a good price.* Though whatever they’d paid, it was too--

Something made a disgusting squishing noise under his boot, and he looked down. Squished jellfu. Even better.

He lifted his boot and looked at the jellfu covering the sole. It jiggled. John wondered how dentics were at boot-cleaning.

“Frell,” he muttered, and reached for his comm. “Pilot!”

“Yes, Commander?”

“I’m down in the cargo bay, and there’s a bit of a mess. Think you could send down a DRD or two to clean it up?” When he moved his boot on the floor, it made a sort of suctioning noise. Disgusting.

There was a brief pause before Pilot responded. “One will be dispatched as soon as it becomes available.”

That meant, *Don’t hold your breath.* “Thanks,” John replied, and tugged the boot off, leaving it next to the spilled, smeared jellfu. He had come down here to find some real food cubes, and he was *not* leaving without them. Watching his step this time, he made his way to the back of the cargo hold and started looking through the older containers. *Green, blue, red, I don’t care. Any color as long as it’s solid--*

His hand hit something greasy and slick. “*Frelling* dren!” he snarled, barely catching himself in time to keep from wiping the jellfu on his pants. Holding his beslimed hand well away from his clothes, John stomped off towards his quarters and a sink.

Had to have been Rygel or Jool.

####### - Part 2

Aeryn rocketed up out of a troubled sleep, crying John’s name, and just barely avoided vomiting all over her bed. As it was she managed to stagger to the bathroom, vision wheeling, before she surrendered to violent heaving, over and over until her throat was burning and she was sure there was nothing left in her stomach. She still felt violently nauseated, not to mention dizzy, and even over the bile she could taste those frelling awful food cubes. *Tasted even worse coming up than going down...* Aeryn pushed the thought away -- it was too painful, too much like something John would say. She couldn’t afford distractions.

Which included illness, too. Aeryn got slowly to her feet and washed her face. Then she rinsed her mouth a few times, spitting the water out, before reaching for a dentic -- not that dentics had been completely successful getting rid of the taste the first time. There was just some sort of residue that hung on despite all efforts. Whoever had purchased the food cubes ought to be shot.

There. Apart from the taste, she was feeling better. It was nothing to worry about, whatever it was. Although the taste alone might be enough to keep her from getting back to sleep.

Not that she’d been sleeping well, anyway.

Despite her expectations, she drifted off within a few arns, into nightmares peopled by glistening, gelatinous food cubes and monstrous dentics, bloated almost to the size of DRDs, misproportioned legs flailing uselessly in the air as they sank into a lake of roiling slime. It made for a refreshing change.

In the morning, though, Aeryn woke to renewed nausea, and when she sat up her head swam. Her nightclothes were soaked with sweat, and the taste in her mouth was back, worse than ever.

*I can’t get sick! Not now!* Not when she *had* to function normally. Not when there was no chance of it going undetected. Not when the only recourse she had was that Interion... *All right. This is just another distraction.* She had to stay focused on her objective. There was no room for weakness.

With that thought firmly in mind, Aeryn managed to drag herself in and out of the shower and get dressed. It got her out the door. It got her all the way to the central chamber, where Chiana was scowling at a counter littered with open, empty containers.

“So,” Chiana said, apparently to herself, “not only is Rygel trying to go through our supplies in record time, he can’t even bother to pick up after himself. I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything else from the toad...” Still frowning, she pushed the empty containers off to the side, finally coming up with a closed one.

Someone certainly had left the place a mess. In addition to the disordered containers, Aeryn saw a couple of splotches of what looked like half-melted food cubes--

\--food cubes--

\--horrible, glistening, jiggling food cubes--

She came very close to losing control of her stomach again.

Ignoring Aeryn, Chiana filled a plate with food cubes and went over to the table, sat down, and started eating. Aeryn quickly turned and left the central chamber. Eating to keep up her strength did no good if she couldn’t keep any of it down. She’d come back later, when she felt better.

‘Later,’ however, came and went with no change, except she possibly grew even dizzier. Every thought required concentration -- she didn’t even have attention to spare of the food cube mess along the walls of Command. When Command started spinning around her in slow circles, Aeryn gave in and headed for the infirmary. *Just something for the dizziness. That’s it.*

She didn’t even get through the infirmary door. *He* was inside.

“...look, Jool, I was feelin’ fine until I ate that food cube, and I’ve felt bad, off and on, ever since. I can still *taste* it. Are you tellin’ me there’s no connection?”

Aeryn stopped as she was turning to leave. They were discussing the food cubes, and she wasn’t the only one feeling sick. *It’s a matter of safety. I should see if there’s something I should do.* She waited just outside the door, out of sight.

“You’re just denying it because you bought them.”

“I did *not* buy them!” Jool sighed melodramatically. “Crichton, I realize the food cubes are revolting. They look terrible and I don’t even want to know what they taste like. But--”

“Wait a microt, Princess.” He laughed. “You telling me you haven’t actually sampled the food cubes du jour?”

“I have a delicate stomach,” the Interion replied primly.

“Ha! No wonder you aren’t down there. The central chamber,” he added, obviously anticipating a question. “D’Argo, Chiana, and Rygel are arguing about who ate more than their share of the dren. I can’t even stand lookin’ at it.”

“Well, at dinner no one was very enthusiastic at first. Then they seemed to... get used to it. Chiana said it grows on you.”

“So does a fungus. Further evidence...”

“Look, Crichton, no one else is feeling sick, and food cubes are food cubes--”

Aeryn braced herself and walked in. Jool saw her and broke off midsentence. *He* looked over his shoulder, saw her, and went still. Aeryn resolutely kept her eyes off him after that first glance. He looked pale and tired, his hair damp, and for some unimaginable reason he was only wearing one boot.

“I, um, was just leaving,” he said. “Yeah. No, wait a microt -- Jool, you got any sorta breath mint? Altoids? Tic-tacs? Anything?” Jool looked at him blankly. “Somethin’ to get rid of the taste... aw, never mind.” He hopped down off the table he was sitting on -- and stopped, looking down at his feet. “Oh, *frell.* This dren is *everywhere*! And no, Jool, I am not gonna clean it up for you.” Still swearing under his breath, he bent down, pulled off his remaining boot, and stalked sockfoot to the door.

Aeryn stole another look when his back was safely turned. The boot’s sole seemed to be covered in... some sort of stuff... *That’s not food cube, is it?*

She looked down at whatever *he* had stepped in. It looked a whole lot like the food cubes in the galley that had apparently melted, thick and slimy and iridescent. Jool was glowering at the puddle, as if that would make it go away.

“Is that... was that food cubes?” Aeryn asked distantly. The sight was doing nothing for her stomach. She wasn’t even going to try to look at the table full of Boolite.

Jool nodded, tossing her curls. “Rygel must have been poking around in here. Did you need something?”

Aeryn locked her eyes on the opposite wall. “I’ve been experiencing dizziness and nausea since before the sleep cycle. The nausea had become severe enough that I have been... unable to eat.” She paused. “The symptoms did begin after I ate yesterday.” Or at least, the nausea had. While she ate, even -- as soon as she’d taken the first bite, her stomach had reacted badly, and only Peacekeeper training had made her finish what she’d taken.

“I see.” Jool frowned. “Well, maybe it *is* something to do with the food cubes. A digestive difference... I’m glad *I* didn’t eat any.”

“Can you do anything?” Aeryn asked through gritted teeth.

“I can give you something for the nausea, anyway. If you’re sure it was the food cubes, don’t eat any more of them. There are still some of the old ones down in storage... at least, if -- someone hasn’t taken them all for safekeeping.” Jool looked slightly nervous at her near-slip. “I’ll check and see if it’s serious, but it doesn’t sound like--”

Jool was interrupted by D’Argo sweeping into the room and looking around with a glare. “Has Rygel been in here?”

“No, why would he have?” Jool replied.

“He’s been hoarding food again.” D’Argo gave the room a second, more careful visual inspection. “I thought I smelled some in here.”

Jool sniffed. “If what you smell are those horrible food cubes Rygel bought, I don’t see how you can eat that dren.”

D’Argo shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”

Aeryn watched, detached, as D’Argo circled the room, checking in cabinets and behind equipment. At least he hadn’t tried to talk to her again. Although why he was so worried about the food cubes she really couldn’t imagine. *Just go away, so I can get an anti-nausea med and get back to work.* And find an alternative food source. She really hoped that she wouldn’t have to talk to *him* about normal food cubes.

Finally, D’Argo discovered the puddle of formerly-food-cube under the examination table. It still had a bootprint in it. “Oh,” he said, disappointed. “Jool, where did this come from?”

“A boot,” Jool replied tartly. “As for that mess, I have no idea. *I* certainly didn’t bring any of those food cubes in here. Would you mind terribly much getting rid of that puddle?” Jool did not *quite* flutter her eyelashes, but she came close.

“Of course not.” D’Argo looked around, found a tray, and settled down to scrape... peel... shovel the mass off the floor. It jiggled, and gleamed unpleasantly in the shifting light. Food cubes weren’t supposed to melt or dissolve for no reason, or resolidify -- resemisolidify -- into shapeless, sticky, jiggly messes that had to be peeled off the floor. The longer she looked at it, the more disgusting it got.

Aeryn looked back up at Jool as the Interion approached with an injector. “This should last for a solar day. If it wears off and you’re still experiencing symptoms, come back.” Aeryn silently nodded understanding, and Jool gave her the shot. The nausea abated almost at once. “Did that help?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Aeryn started towards the door just as D’Argo rose to his feet, holding the tray and gesturing to the mostly-clean floor. “I think I got most of it. Be sure to comm if anything else happens.” Before Jool could do more than smile thanks, he twisted off a bit of the... mess, and put it in his mouth.

*I am not going to say anything. If D’Argo wants to eat that, then that is his problem.* Aeryn quickly left the infirmary and headed back to Command. She had no interest in what Jool’s response would be. None. She had to stay focused on the objective.

Forgetting the food cubes was rather difficult. She arrived in Command to find a DRD working on removing another gelatinous mess on the floor. Aeryn made a mental note to find out who was leaving food cubes all over the ship and kill them right after the person who bought the food cubes, then settled down to watch the consoles and try not to think.

####### - Part 3

“This canister was *full* yesterday!” D’Argo roared. “Not even Rygel eats that much! So *you* must be hoarding!”

“Me?” Crais shot back. “Ridiculous. I have more self-control than that. Furthermore, I find it suspicious the way *you* are attempting to place the blame on someone, anyone else!”

Jool eyed them warily through lowered lashes from where she sat, eating food cubes that were merely normally repulsive -- she’d wheedled Crichton into revealing the location of his hidden over. D’Argo and Crais had been standing practically nose to nose, yelling at each other, for nearly a quarter arn. The subject of dispute, as was becoming normal, was who had stolen the food cubes.

D’Argo’s tone became dangerous. “Are you accusing me?”

“What do you think, Luxan?”

“I think you don’t have the courage to say what you mean, Peacekeeper.”

Jool winced, anticipating violence. This argument had happened at least once a solar day for the last three, and several times it had taken intervention to break it up -- once Crichton trying to downplay it, once Aeryn threatening to shoot both of them, and once Pilot calling with a distraction. Crichton and Aeryn might not be speaking, but they still seemed to be in perfect agreement on anything concerning the ‘new’ food cubes, or the arguments surrounding said food cubes. Jool did have to admit, they seemed to be running through more of the new food cubes than they could account for, but *she* would have blamed Rygel.

Of course, D’Argo, Crais, and Chiana did, at least twice a day.

+++

“Look, Pip, all I’m saying is, I just think it’s a little strange that you all thought the stuff was disgusting when it was brought on board--” *like any sane person would* “--and now four days later you can’t get enough of it. Don’t you think that’s a little strange?”

Chiana shrugged, unconcerned. “You just have to try it. Don’t be so picky, Crichton.”

“Picky?” John asked incredulously. He’d bumped into Chiana in the laundry and decided to try talking to her about the jellfu, but it wasn’t going very well. “This is not an issue of being picky. That stuff practically made me sick. Jool says you guys didn’t think much of your first bites, either.”

“Well, no... but not everyone’s had your advantages, you know. Being able to pick what food you like...”

“Yeah, yeah, I *know,* but it’s one thing to eat what you have to, and something else to eat something disgusting and then-- Oh, never mind.” He examined his boots critically. After soaking for over two days, being scrubbed, and soaking for another day, they looked more or less clean, but it would probably take a long time for the residue to wear off completely. “Just try not to make such a mess with it. It’s been dribbled *everywhere.* Pilot’s annoyed and so am I.” John got up and left, shaking his head. *What is wrong with them? I don’t see how they can even look at the stuff.*

He would have attributed the whole thing to physiological differences, except that Crais was also enthusiastically munching jellfu -- and accusing the others of stealing it -- and Aeryn was back on normal food cubes. (Fortunately, John had managed to move about half of the food cubes he’d found back to storage before Aeryn went looking for them.) Maybe it had something to do with how much jellfu you ate. The more you had, the more you liked it, so the more you ate...

*Wait a minute.* “Addictive jellfu?” John said out loud to the empty corridor. “No way. *I* must be on something.” Still, it might explain things. If you smoked one cigarette you coughed and wheezed and made a fool of yourself. Pack-a-day smokers not only enjoyed the same experience, they couldn’t give it up. Still, addictive food cubes -- even slimy gelatinous food cubes... *What makes a food cube a food cube, anyway?* It was a question he might have bothered Aeryn with, once upon a time. John allowed himself a brief moment of painful regret before considering other possibilities. Any of the ‘addicts’ were out of the question. Jool? His ego wouldn’t take it. “All right. I just hope Pilot’s in a good mood.”

Or at least, that Pilot’s frustration was directed somewhere other than John. On his way to the den, John passed five glops of jellfu, one of them being cleaned up by a DRD. Addicted or not, his crewmates sure were making a mess. Pilot had every right to be irritated. Heck, *John* was irritated.

Fortunately, Pilot was cordial -- in fact, he even seemed happy to see John. “Commander Crichton. I was just about to ask you to come up here.”

“Glad to save you the trouble, Pilot,” John replied. It was good to have something concrete to do. “What can I do for you?”

“Well...” Pilot said slowly. “The DRDs have informed me... Perhaps, Commander, you could simply look down below my console, in the front?”

John shrugged, a little puzzled, but walked around and looked down. He looked again. There was no mistaking it. “What the frell... How did they manage to spill jell-- food cubes in here?” *And I thought we’d hit the limit when it turned up in Command...*

“I don’t know.” Pilot seemed to be craning his neck, as if he could somehow stretch far enough to see the jellfu. “None of them have been in here since they returned from the commerce planet.” ‘Them’ clearly referred to the jellfu-eaters. Pilot evidently agreed with John’s evaluation of the situation. “I haven’t seen any of... that type of food cube in here. It seems to have just... appeared. I confess I am quite puzzled.”

“Yeah, me too.” John had blamed Rygel when jellfu turned up in his quarters, though the Hynerian had been hiding from D’Argo, Crais, and Chiana and so was unavailable to be throttled by John. But he couldn’t picture even Rygel somehow sneaking into Pilot’s den just to dump jellfu on the floor. “The DRDs can take care of it, right?”

Pilot nodded his huge head. “Of course.”

“Good, just makin’ sure. I know they’ve been pretty busy what with the dren turning up on the rest of the ship.”

“Specifically,” Pilot said, “DRDs have been cleansing away food cube remnants in the galley, the central chamber, Command, throughout the living quarters, the maintenance bay, the cargo holds, several unused tiers, numerous corridors, and now here.”

John blinked. “Whoa.” He’d known there was a lot of mess, but somehow, hearing the list like that... “No wonder they all think someone’s eatin’ more than their share. Half the stuff is all over Moya’s decks. Even for Rygel, that’s extreme.” He paused, recalling the original reason for his visit. “So Pilot, you know much about food cubes?” John held up a hand to forestall whatever reply Pilot might make to *that.* “I don’t mean the basic stuff, essential nutrients blah blah blah. I mean like... where do they come from, who makes ’em, is there any sorta FDA in charge of ’em -- guess that’d be FCA -- is there a universal formula...” John paused again, trying to think of a better way to ask the question. “I guess what I’m sayin’ is, have you ever heard of any cases of false advertising?”

“False advertising?” Pilot queried. “I’m not... entirely familiar with that term.”

*Well, I got a reputation to maintain.* “What I mean is, have you ever heard of a case where people sold stuff as food cubes, that wasn’t?”

Pilot comprehended. “You think that--”

He was interrupted by Aeryn’s voice from the comm, low and tense. “Pilot,” she said.

“Yes, Officer Sun?” Pilot replied at once. John concentrated on inspecting his boots and the little pile of jellfu by the console.

“I’m in the maintenance bay, and I’ve found something. It’s not an immediate threat, but I think you should send a DRD to look at it.”

“Of course.”

Something about what she’d said-- *No. The way she said it.* Her tone was unreadable -- but not Peacekeeper-unreadable. It was the tone of someone who just found something unidentifiable and strange and isn’t willing to speculate aloud. A hint of the old Aeryn. John rejoiced inwardly, but what she said next still floored him.

There was a pause. “It might be best if you also sent... Crichton... to assist in... investigating. Perhaps Jool as well.”

“At once,” Pilot said. John didn’t even wait for him to cut the comm, just left the den as quietly as he could, then started running for the maintenance bay. He was walking on air, and could barely even manage to worry about what was so distressing as to require the immediate attention of all the even marginally qualified scientists on board.

####### - Part 4

Before he entered the maintenance bay, John slowed down, took a deep breath, and attempted to school his face into a suitably businesslike expression. She’d said his name. She’d acknowledged his existence. Running in clicking his heels was a sure way to reverse any gains they’d made. The least he could do was to meet her halfway, make it easier. *Don’t push her.* He took another deep breath and strode briskly into the maintenance bay. “Jool may take a while,” he said. “It seems she was in the shower, and -- well -- it’s Jool.”

Aeryn nodded wordlessly. Her face was still blank, but... more alive. Having a crisis was good for her. She was standing, almost at attention, looking at one of the tables against the wall. John guessed she’d been cleaning her pulse rifle when she saw... whatever she saw.

“So... what’s the problem?” he asked, a bit more hesitant.

Aeryn nodded again, this time towards the table. “Under there,” she said. Her tone was still I’m-not-going-to-describe-it-until-you-do.

John paused, then walked to the table, crouched down, and looked under it--

He recoiled almost at once, his gorge rising. “Good God!” John backed up before risking another look.

From the bottom of the tabletop to the floor, the wall was covered in a thick coating of jellfu. The floor was invisible as well, coated almost to the table’s edge. There were no cube shapes visible, but it was unmistakably jellfu -- the color, the oily glisten, the way it jiggled... *There’s too frelling much of it!* John guessed that at its thickest point, where floor met wall, he could have stuck his arm into the jellfu nearly to the elbow -- not that there was any way in hezmana he’d try that. Just looking at it was bad enough. The overall appearance was the same repulsive jellfu, but the way it stuck to the wall, the floor... it looked like mold, or fungi.

“Soooo,” he said slowly. “Either some member of our happy crew decided to paint the maintenance bay with jellfu...”

“What?”

He didn’t dare look to see her expression. “Um. Sorry. Jellfu’s just shorter than ‘this weird not-food cube stuff’, which is what I meant. Either somebody’s been redecorating, or there’s something very very wrong here.” When she did not immediately reply, John slowly stood up, moving away from the jellfu. “I was just talkin’ to Pilot. Some of this dren turned up in his chamber, no idea how it got there. Don’t know if he’s given you the rundown of other places--”

“Yes, as of yesterday.” She paused. “I assumed Rygel was responsible.”

“Reasonable assumption. He usually is.” He would *not* try to make eye contact. Would not push. They were having a conversation. *Let that be enough for the moment.* “I wouldn’t be so worried if it was just jellfu everywhere. But the way the others have been acting -- they’re desperate for the stuff.”

“Their behavior has disturbed me as well,” Pilot said, startling both of them. John hadn’t seen the DRDs roll in, but two were now scrutinizing the jellfu. “They have become almost continually preoccupied with the... food cubes, even when engaged in other tasks. Talyn has also expressed concern to Moya regarding Captain Crais. Talyn is puzzled as to why Crais would be craving something he previously found disgusting.”

“Is there any on Talyn?” Aeryn asked quickly.

“No.” Pilot sighed. “Several days ago Captain Crais attempted to take some of the... supplies back to Talyn, but D’Argo objected.”

“I see.” John eyed the jellfu. “I think we should have Jool test this stuff to see if it’s got any addictive substances in it.”

“Also for any independent means of movement,” Aeryn said. “We still have no explanation for its widespread appearances.”

“Agreed,” Pilot replied. “Ah... Joolushko is still in her quarters.”

“No problem-o. Tell Princess that since she’s still not down here, she can pick up a sampling kit from the lab on the way. And tell her to bring her scientist’s hat.”

“Ah... yes, Commander. If you say so.”

+++

Jool was taking an impossible amount of time. What was she doing, sewing an entire new wardrobe? Probably primping in front of a mirror... Aeryn toyed with the notion of simply marching down and dragging Jool back to the maintenance bay, to end the frelling waiting. The tension was getting worse, since there was nothing to say.

Aeryn was of two minds about the silence. It was a lot easier, not having to say anything, not being *pressured* to say anything. But... it wasn’t natural. He was never quiet. He always had something to say, however meaningless, however incomprehensible.

Now he wasn’t saying anything, just aimlessly circling the room, occasionally glancing at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

She had talked to him, though. She’d spoken to him, and he to her, and she’d avoided breaking down. A small triumph, but a triumph nonetheless. If she was going to help him against Scorpius, they had to be able to communicate. And Aeryn was *not* going to fail on this mission. She owed it to John -- to make sure Scorpius was taken out, and to make sure *he* didn’t die, too.

Her eyes stung. *Frell.* She’d resolved not to reflect on these things... She quickly moved forward to examine the... growth under the table, both to distract herself and to lesson the possibility of *him* noticing her distress. It really did look like it might have grown there. She was more and more convinced that whatever this -- substance -- was, it wasn’t food cubes, and it was alive.

She was also convinced that it should never have been brought on board, but then, that hadn’t taken very long.

*He* cleared his throat. “Pilot, think there’s any chance the bathing beauty’ll be joining us sometime in the next cycle?”

Aeryn wouldn’t, couldn’t look at him, not with tears still in her eyes, but she knew what she’d see, anyway. He was getting uncomfortable, too. Too much time standing and waiting, with nothing to do but think -- not good for either of them. “Tell her she has three hundred microts before I come looking for her.”

“I believe Joolushko is in the lab at this time, collecting equipment,” Pilot replied.

“About frelling time. And the others?”

Pilot paused. “Are dispersed around Moya, looking, apparently, for stashes of food cubes.”

“Frell,” *he* muttered. “Okay, just... just warn us if they’re comin’ this way, all right? We have the *weirdest* problems.” He resumed pacing his uneven circuit of the maintenance bay, looking at the floor, but this time he wasn’t silent. “So, whaddya think? Do we bully Jool into collecting samples, or have a DRD do it?”

“DRDs would be far more efficient.”

“Yeah, and I guess even Jool doesn’t deserve to have to touch this dren.”

Another silence fell, this time with both of them staring at the... what had he called it? Jellfu. What a ridiculous word. Aeryn was positive it wasn’t even a human word -- he’d just made it up. But it *was* shorter, more efficient, than ‘the things purchased as food cubes which now seem less and less like food cubes.’ Jellfu, then. “Which of them bought it?” she asked suddenly. “Who purchased this... jellfu?”

He probably thought he’d hidden the tiny grin that flitted across his face; it was quickly replaced by an ironic smile anyway. “I asked, earlier, before they all turned crazy about it... none of them would admit it. Has to have been Jool, Chiana, or Rygel.”

“Naturally,” she muttered, disgusted. “Getting us into more dren.”

He nodded. “Sometimes it does seem like it. There’s one place in the Uncharted Territories selling imitation food cubes, and they find it? If there’s trouble to be found, Rygel and Chiana’ll find it. In fact, half the time they’ve made it. Not that Jool’s exactly a good-luck charm, considering...” He trailed off, staring at the floor, his expression going somber, and he shot a very cautious glance at her.

*What is he expecting? Why is he-- Oh.* Of course. Jool had damaged the transport pod, causing them to end up on Kaarvok’s Leviathan. She managed not to wince.

“Ah, and here’s Doctor Princess herself,” he said, his tone light -- consciously so. He obviously hadn’t meant to bring up her John, however circuitously.

Jool flounced into the bay looking noticeably ruffled, her hair a brighter shade than usual, carrying a lab coat and several vials. “Whatever it is, I’m not touching it,” she announced. Aeryn was tempted to reconsider her earlier stance on efficiency, but said nothing.

*He* indicated the table. “Under there. Take samples. Get a DRD to help you if Pilot agrees. Check it for life, capability of independent movement, addictive substances, and just what it is anyway. And make it snappy!”

Jool looked at the jellfu, clearly horrified. “What *is* that?!” she exclaimed.

“That’s what we’re askin’ you, Princess.” He shook his head and turned to her. “Look, I think I’d better keep an eye on Doctor Princess while she does her work. I might even be able to help.”

She nodded briskly. “Good. I’ll attempt to... keep track of the others. And restrain D’Argo if necessary.”

“Just not where the others can get at him.”

“Officer Sun?” Pilot put in. “If you are planning on attempting supervision... it appears that D’Argo has just located Dominar Rygel on tier six.”

Duty called. “Acknowledged.” She gave *him* a nod, then turned her steps out into the corridor.

####### - Part 5

The corridor walls were lined with jellfu, though it wasn’t as thick as the layer under the table in the maintenance bay. Aeryn ignored it, though she was careful not to step in it. It was reportedly quite slippery, and *he* claimed it clung to boots as stubbornly as it did to the inside of your mouth. That was not a good thing -- the taste was finally gone, but it had taken days.

“How bad is it, Pilot?” she asked.

His voice over the comm was worried. “Moya is not in any danger at this time, but if the... substance continues to grow...”

“I understand.” Aeryn checked the canister of liquid nitrogen she’d collected after Pilot contacted her. Her ‘charges’ had been peaceful for the first time since she’d started watching them, about five arns before -- naturally it had been too good to last. “I’ll be there shortly. How fast has it been growing?”

“Very... quickly,” Pilot replied. “Observation indicates that it seems to have reached some sort of critical stage, passed a certain volume perhaps, and is now increasing exponentially -- I can’t be any more specific until Joolushko has finished her tests. The neural cluster is not the only area affected, merely the most serious at this time. Moya is becoming frightened. Do you think the liquid nitrogen will help?”

She heard the growing concern in his voice and hurried up. “I hope so. Even if this... this... *jellfu* can survive the extreme cold, I hope it will at least go dormant. And I will be careful not to spray any on Moya.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be very difficult,” Pilot said soberly. “Very little of Moya is exposed.”

*Frell.* Aeryn rounded another corner and slowed. The corridor’s floor was covered in jellfu. “Well, now I see why the DRDs couldn’t get through.” Four of the darters sat in the middle of the hall, wheels whirring uselessly in the jellfu. Aeryn swung the nitrogen canister off her shoulder and attached the spray nozzle. “I’ll try and freeze a path first.” Grimly, she aimed at the jellfu and let the nitrogen fly.

It was too soon to tell if the very low temperatures had killed the jellfu, but it had been solidified. Aeryn stepped carefully forward, rather satisfied with the cracking noise the frozen jellfu made under her boots. No time to rejoice just yet.

Aeryn entered the neural cluster and stopped. Even Pilot’s descriptions hadn’t prepared her for the sheer volume of jellfu. Every single surface in the room was thickly covered with glistening semisolid, and the floor was dotted with jiggling, knee-high mounds of it. It looked more alive than ever, like some gruesome sort of mold.

“I’ve arrived, Pilot,” Aeryn said. “Can the DRDs clear it away once it’s inert?”

“Yes, Officer Sun. Or they can at least begin...”

“Good. Tell Crichton to get the frell down here and bring a shovel.” She raised the canister of liquid nitrogen and picked a jiggling heap.

This jellfu was going to die.

+++

*Frell, if Zhaan could just see this place now...* John thought wistfully. *She’d come back out of sheer indignation.* Not that Jool did a bad job, overall, but...

The lab was full of jellfu. The stuff was everywhere -- and that wasn’t even counting the growths they still hadn’t cleaned out of the corners. Most of the DRDs were fully occupied beating back the jellfu from Moya’s more sensitive systems. They still hadn’t actually seen the jellfu move, but it definitely grew. Fast. Aeryn had barely gotten the situation in the neural cluster somewhat under control when some crucial conduits started clogging. She’d been crisscrossing Moya with liquid nitrogen ever since. John had been helping for most of the time -- and only John, except for the DRDs. Despite Aeryn’s warning that it wouldn’t work, he’d tried to draw D’Argo’s attention to the current situation. His friend had barely even seemed to hear him. Even Crais the mighty Peacekeeper captain had been busy stuffing his face, but then, if Talyn hadn’t been able to distract him no one else had much hope. John hadn’t even looked for Chiana or Rygel, just gotten more tanks of liquid nitrogen and rejoined Aeryn.

He hadn’t suggested the liquid nitrogen, but it was exactly what he would have done. Too bad it only seemed to temporarily stun the jellfu. John had spent an exhausting arn helping the DRDs chip jellfu out of the neural cluster -- *Never argue with a woman bearing a liquid nitrogen tank* -- taken a sample of the frozen stuff back to Jool, then made sure the rest of the waste was safely spaced. Sure enough, the frozen sample had ‘revived’ less than two arns later, which meant they had less than three arns after freezing the jellfu to get rid of it, or else they’d have to deal with it again. They needed another way, which was why he was down here being annoying.

Jool, her hair pulled back, was bending over a scanner examining another jellfu glob. She’d wanted to look at some still in food cube form, but John and Pilot hadn’t been able to find any. All of it was either ‘melted’ or growing on something. Those opened containers in the cargo bay took on a new, sinister meaning -- escaping jellfu.

*I’m trapped in a B-movie.* And he’d spent several B-movie-like arns with Aeryn, running from infestation to infestation bearing liquid nitrogen, sprayers, shovels, and chisels. They’d only had time to protect crucial areas -- John didn’t want to know what living quarters looking like. Just what they were doing was a Herculean labor...

*But she’s speaking to me.* Even if it was stuff like “Hand me the next canister” and “You take that end” and “I’m going to kill Chiana,” she was talking to him. Like a crewmate, not like furniture. And as long as he kept his replies to things like “Here you go” and “Could I get another shovel?” and “It might’ve been Rygel,” they could have a conversation. A real conversation. Yes, it was business-only, yes, they were in the middle of a crisis, yes, it wasn’t everything he wanted, but none of that mattered when--

“Why are you grinning like an idiot?” Jool demanded. “In case you haven’t noticed we’re in serious dren here.”

He winced at the shrill edge to her tone. She had managed to avoid hysterics thus far, but... “Anything new, Doctor Princess?”

She tossed her head. “Well, I’ve attempted to analyze its cellular structure... if that even is a cellular structure... frell. It’s alive. I think. I mean, I think it’s alive in a sense I can identify. It’s definitely a community of tiny organisms rather than one large one. Large colonies are probably their natural form, but tiny amounts can regenerate a colony.” Jool indicated one of the innumerable sealed sample cases, which held a slightly smaller jellfu glop. “I’m not sure what it eats. It’s... extremely durable. You saw it survive being frozen. Probably extreme heat wouldn’t kill them either, unless they were actually set on fire. They look like they could survive almost *any* environmental conditions--”

John’s stomach flip-flopped. “Jool?”

“What?” she snapped.

“What about digestion?” He’d just *had* to try one of the frelling food cubes, trying to be grown-up-- *Please say they can’t, please say they can’t, please--*

She blinked. “I haven’t tested that.

“Well, do.” He was getting a headache. “What about addictive substances?”

That, she apparently had tested. “Yes, several. Surprisingly high levels of baritocin--”

“Yeah, yeah, so we’ve got the marijuana brownies from hell. This could only happen to us.” John rubbed his eyes. He needed sleep which he didn’t think he was going to get. “All right, Princess. Test its reaction to acid -- digestive and anything we’ve got on board that wouldn’t damage Moya. Find out how it moves. Find out how it eats. Find out how to detox our crewmates. Just -- find a way to kill the stuff.”

“Oh, and while I’m at it why don’t I procure a gourmet chef, unravel the secrets of wormholes, and send *you* back where you came from!”

*Low blow, Jool.* “That’d be nice, too.” He started for the door, then stopped. “And Princess?”

“Now what?!”

“Before you do anything else...” John nodded across the lab. “You might want to rescue the Boolite.”

He paused for a moment to savor her expression at the thought of picking Boolite out of jellfu, then strode on out to catch up with Aeryn.

####### - Part 6

Aeryn swung the shovel into the outer side of Pilot’s console, shattering its coating of jellfu with a satisfying smash. A few more forceful blows took off the rest of the frozen layer, and then she had to move to the task of shoveling the shards into crates, barrels, anything that would hold it for a while. The DRDs that had done most of the removal work in the neural cluster had been diverted to keep Moya’s conduits clear; Aeryn was accompanied now by only one, which would carefully scrape all the small fragments into a neat pile. It was a necessary task, considering how prolific the jellfu was. The whole process had become entirely too familiar. She got the last large fragment and took aim at an as-yet-untouched patch of jellfu with her nitrogen-sprayer, checking the level as she did so. There was only enough left for a few more patches. “Frell.”

“Is there a problem?” Pilot asked. He was remarkably calm for someone immobile and surrounded on all sides by the most revolting substance in the Uncharted Territories.

“No, Pilot, I’m just almost out of liquid nitrogen again.” She sighed, wishing she had time to at least try to sleep. Since she was so tired, it might actually do some good. “Although I’m hesitant to use it anyway near the interface on the console -- not to mention you. There *has* to be some other way!”

Fortunately for her nerves, she heard him picking his way through the jellfu before he spoke. “Well, taking him down to the laundry room to soak is out of the question. How ’bout dentics?” Carrying a shovel and two nitrogen canisters, he made his way up to the console very slowly and carefully. She didn’t blame him. Almost the entire walkway was covered with some amount of jellfu, and jellfu was slippery. It was going to be frelling hard to get rid of, especially since they couldn’t knock it into the cavern below, where it would only grow again.

Pilot blinked. “Dentics?” He sounded extremely dubious.

“Well, just a thought.” *He* handed Aeryn one of the canisters. “No good news. Jool hasn’t come up with much yet, and these are the last two containers of this stuff.”

It was her turn to blink. “It’s gone? How--”

“I’m afraid so,” Pilot said. “Moya cannot produce the liquid nitrogen as fast as we have been using it to neutralize the... substance.”

“Frell!” Aeryn looked around Pilot’s den, at the glistening jellfu in all directions. “Are there any... chemicals that kill it? Acids?”

“Jool’s supposed to be testing that,” he said, also looking around at the jellfu. “I could go back down and try to speed things up, but at this point I don’t think it’d do a lot of good. We gotta decide where we’re going to use the rest of the nitrogen. First off we have to keep Moya’s arteries from gettin’ clogged--”

*Humans.* “If what you mean by that is that most of it should go to the DRDs to keep Moya’s vital systems clear,” Aeryn said patiently, “You’re correct. For the rest...” She considered, mentally running through a checklist. *We can live without laundry for a while, the central chamber’s hopeless, living quarters aren’t really crucial... “Some consoles in Command, probably. Pilot’s console and at least one walkway in here. The hatches where we’re expelling the... substance. Oh, and some clear space in the maintenance bay and the lab.”

Pilot made a small noise to capture their attention. “Might I suggest that you begin with the atmospheric scrubbers? While they are not yet seriously compromised, the risk--”

“Oh, frell,” *he* muttered. “Should I take that while you help Pilot?”

Aeryn looked over at Pilot. Yes, his console definitely needed further work -- and *frell* some of the jellfu was even beginning to grow on Pilot. “Fine. We’ll meet in Command,” she said grimly, and hoped she wouldn’t have to actually resort to dentics.

+++

The jellfu on the atmospheric scrubbers was still thin enough to call for cleanser and rag, not nitrogen and shovel, so Aeryn had taken both full canisters, leaving the nearly-empty one. John was relieved -- he hated to admit it, but all the shoveling was *not* fun for his back. Each scrubber had to be turned off, cleaned, and turned back on before he could move to the next. He worked carefully, not wanting to damage the particularly important pieces of equipment. *This really isn’t something we should use the liquid nitrogen on anyway.* He would have to be sure to try to clear back the jellfu in the immediate area, though.

While the task wasn’t particularly strenuous, it was very time-consuming. Aeryn had probably already finished cleaning Pilot’s console -- he wondered if she was going to try to make the catwalk a bit safer, or if she was going directly to Command. *I’m gonna be late.*

John had finally finished with the last scrubber, turned it back on, and was starting to spray the surrounding floor and walls with liquid nitrogen when a gauge caught his eye. He couldn’t read any of the labels, of course... but they didn’t look the same as they had on the other occasions he’d been down here. The proportions were different. He hit his comm. “Pilot?”

“Yes, Commander?”

“Um... I’m down here with the atmosphere scrubbers lookin’ at a gauge, and I’m not sure but it looks a little strange... Think something could be off?”

“Everything should be fine, Commander,” Pilot replied. “My readings indicate you cleaned the scrubbers before their efficiency was impaired by the... jellfu.” Had Pilot just said ‘jellfu’? “I will check, though.”

“Thanks, Pilot.” John sprayed a section of floor and started in on the shovel work.

A moment later, Pilot was back. “Commander, you were correct. The proportion of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere has been significantly lowered.”

“Carbon dioxide...” John said, trailing off. *Well, at last we aren’t running out of oxygen.*

Pilot sounded slightly agitated. “The environmentals are functioning normally. There is some sort of drain on the carbon dioxide. Nitrogen levels have also been lowered, to a lesser extent. I’m attempting to compensate for the drain by reprogramming the scrubbers.”

“Thanks, Pilot,” John replied, shoveling shards into a crate. “Can you think of anything other than the jellfu that might be doing this?”

“No, Commander.”

John nodded. “Okay. Finally, some good news.”

“Commander?”

Before Pilot could question his sanity further, John laughed, without much humor. “Well, from the way the stuff’s been spreading, we knew it had to be eating *something.* I’m just relieved it was carbon dioxide and not oxygen, or... or chakan oil. Or metal.” He paused a moment to let that sink in. “So, should I head back to Command, or is there somewhere else in need? Keeping in mind that I’m out of liquid nitrogen.”

Pilot paused. “We... do have another problem, Commander.”

*I don’t like the sound of that.* He rubbed his eyes and wondered if Aeryn was feeling friendly enough towards him to let him hold down the jellfu-buyer while she killed the individual in question. “Now what?”

“I have been... monitoring all of Moya’s crucial systems since the rapid growth stage began, and you and Officer Sun have been a great help. However...”

Pilot sounded... self-reproachful. *Why do I get the feeling I am not gonna like this?* “Just tell me, Pilot.”

“As you may recall, I have no direct surveillance of the starburst chamber...”

John almost dropped the shovel. Recovering, he slammed the lid on the crate of jellfu shards and began a beeline for Command, not caring that the first time he hit a corner, the jellfu-slick floor would probably send him crashing into a wall -- and indeed did. Swearing, John recovered and kept going. “Have you told Aeryn? How much liquid nitrogen does she have left? Can we starburst with the chamber full of jellfu?”

“I just informed her, less than a quarter of a tank, and... I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you *don’t know*!!” John demanded. “You have to know!”

*That* got Pilot irritated. “It isn’t as if this has ever happened before, Commander. I do not know if Moya can starburst like this, and I would prefer not to have to find out. Which is why--”

“Right, I’m on my--”

“Crichton!” Jool’s shrill voice from the comm cut across his response. “Rygel is trying to eat my samples and D’Argo and Crais are threatening to kill each other! *Get down here!*”

Naturally, now was the time when he finally slipped and fell on his face.

####### - Part 7

To say that John was in a bad mood when he limped into the lab would be to understate the case. Having to wade through knee-deep drifts of jellfu on the way hadn’t much helped. “Okay, does someone wanna tell me what’s going on in here?”

The place was a mess -- jellfu all along the walls, sample cases everywhere, a couple of chemical vats sitting in disarray, and of course the Boolite -- and that was without the occupants. (You couldn’t exactly count the Boolite as much more than scenery.) Unfortunately, it looked like Jool hadn’t been exaggerating much. Rygel certainly was raiding a sample container for snacks. And the only thing separating D’Argo and Crais was Jool herself, standing between them, hands on hips, pout on face, looking tremendously irritated. D’Argo was practically growling; Crais was all but foaming at the mouth.

Neither of them immediately answered the question, so John turned and grabbed Rygel, lifting him away from the sample containers. “Look, mean green eating machine, there is jellfu *everywhere on the ship.* You can hardly have missed that. So why, exactly, are you tryin’ to eat the lab samples?” He turned to the other two. “And as for you... I can understand where Rygel is concerned, but even addicted to this stuff, I would have thought you two would notice the trouble we’re in!”

“Addicted! Crichton, that’s absurd,” Crais snarled. “You can’t get addicted to food cubes.”

*Food cubes? It’s growing on the walls!* “Crais, are you livin’ in the same universe just now...? Never mind. If you don’t believe me, ask Jool. She tested it. Doctor Princess?”

Jool sighed loudly. “I identified eight addictive substances before I stopped to investigate how it seemed to be alive.”

“Alive?” D’Argo echoed.

“Yes.” John pointed to the nearest growth of jellfu. “Alive. As in moves, grows, leeches nitrogen and carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere, clogs crucial conduits. Aeryn, Pilot, and I have spent the last solar day tryin’ to keep up with the stuff and keep Moya’s systems clear, Jool has been tryin’ to figure out what it is and how to kill it, and *you* have been pullin’ a Papa Bear, ‘Someone’s been eating my porridge’ routine!” He ignored D’Argo’s blink, struck by a corollary. *If D’Argo’s Papa Bear, that means Crais gets to be Goldilocks.* Unfortunate thought. John got back on track and glared at D’Argo and Crais. “You also may not have noticed us periodically tryin’ to get your attention, tell you your food cubes are takin’ over the ship. No?”

“Taking over the ship?”

“Is there an echo in here?” John demanded. He pointed to another jellfu patch. “Did you think that was normal? Have you looked in the corridors lately? D’Argo, it’s *everywhere.* It could seriously harm Moya, it could do some other damage to Moya that would seriously harm us. I don’t know about you, but I *like* having a breathable atmosphere. So why don’t you two either help, or stay out of the way.” He took a deep breath and turned to Jool. “Now that *that’s* done with. Any luck?”

Jool grimaced. “I’m still testing various concentrations of acid. Strong acids kill it, but they aren’t safe to just... spray around. Weaker acids aren’t strong enough.” She paused. “I did look into the digestive system issue.”

“Yes? And?” John was pretty sure they didn’t have to worry about this. *Pretty* sure. It would certainly be ugly if they did have to worry.

She smiled smugly. “The acids didn’t seem to have much effect on the jellfu...”

It was an alarming statement, but Jool was a lousy liar. *She’s just trying to get me worried.* “So, it takes prolonged exposure, somethin’ like that?”

Jool nodded, only slightly crestfallen that he’d seen through it. “No longer than normal digestion. Even those who’ve eaten... large amounts of it shouldn’t have any left alive after a few days.” Her face wrinkled. “This is unbelievably disgusting. I can’t believe I’m here discussing digestion -- and digestion of-- of *this*! This is the most revolting--”

“Shut up, Jool.” John was struggling to come up with a plan. But what was there to say, really? They needed to find something to kill the jellfu. And un-addict their crewmates.

He glanced over to see what Rygel, D’Argo, and Crais were doing -- Rygel had actually stopped eating, and looked slightly disgusted, though the other two seemed to still be absently munching. They looked uncomfortable -- hardly surprising. Neither the Luxan nor the former Peacekeeper captain would be very happy to hear they were addicted to anything, much less the food cubes. Former food cubes. D’Argo noticed John’s attention and frowned. “I’ll begin clearing Command.”

“I’ll... assist,” Crais said.

John wondered how long it would be before they were either fighting or eating. *I’ll ask Pilot to keep an eye on them.* “Great,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Thanks for pitching in. Um... y’know, actually, your work might be better spent on the Starburst chamber.” Where Pilot couldn’t keep an eye on them, but that wasn’t as important as Moya being able to leave the area in a hurry if they had to.

“The Starburst chamber,” D’Argo agreed. They left, somewhat awkwardly.

John sighed. “You keep workin’ on the acids for now, Jool. You’ll have to talk to Pilot about it, too. I think it may be time to call another strategy meeting.”

+++

“So,” *he* finished from his perch on the opposite edge of Pilot’s console, “looks like some sort of acid’s the best chance we have. Unless Jool’s come up with a jellfucide in the last quarter-arn...?”

“I don’t know what that means,” Jool said.

Aeryn rubbed her eyes. She was feeling the lack of sleep again. “I think if she’d found anything we’d know about it by now, don’t you? Pilot, have you found a solution that would be safe for Moya?” The last thing they needed was a repeat of the metallite debacle, with the cure almost worse than the problem.

Pilot looked down at her. “There are several possibilities, Aeryn. However, all of them are too weak to immediately kill the substance. Joolushko and I have identified a concentration that should destroy the... jellfu upon prolonged exposure, but cause Moya no more than minor discomfort.”

“You’re sure?” Not that it wouldn’t be very good to be rid of the jellfu. She was scraping it off Pilot’s console again, *already.*

“Yes, thank you. In fact, if this does not work, Moya and I are willing to risk a slightly higher concentration of acid,” Pilot said. “Moya is very eager to be rid of this situation. As am I.” It was worth remembering that as discomfited as the rest of them were, Pilot and Moya were suffering the most from the jellfu infestation.

“Thank you, Pilot,” *he* said sincerely. “And thank Moya for us. Um... we’re gonna need a lot of this acid, aren’t we.”

Pilot nodded. “Over a thousand rillins.”

*He* looked blank, but Aeryn winced. “So we’re planning to do it tier by tier?” Flooding an entire tier with acid, even dilute acid... Frell, flooding an entire tier with *anything.*

“Whoa. Okay. If we need that much, we’d better start making it now,” *he* said, hopping down from the console. “Jool, you’ve got the formula? I’m no chemistry major, but I can help with this.” He glanced in her direction. “And we’ll need someone who knows Moya’s systems, how to get the acid where we want it to go.”

She nodded, rising to her feet. “Of course.” Aeryn caught Jool by the arm when the Interion almost slipped, again. “Watch your footing.”

“I *am* watching my footing, it’s this frelling jellfu -- if someone would just help me--”

“Oh, no, Princess, everyone else gets to walk in the jellfu, so do you.”

Aeryn headed for the lab, almost smiling at the conversation behind her. She’d have to count the number of falls.

####### - Part 8

Luckily, they’d never really kept anything of importance on tier one, so they didn’t have to spend a lot of time cleaning it out. Instead, Aeryn was just giving it a quick once-over inspection to make sure there wasn’t something there after all... like, for example, Chiana, who had not been seen in some time and wasn’t wearing her comms. “You know that is a waste of time,” Aeryn said, addressing the comms. “She probably found out what was happening with the jellfu and decided to hide from retribution, being the original purchaser of the dren.”

“Well, we have to look.” Despite the words, she suspected that *he* agreed with her. “She might’ve... I don’t know... eaten herself into a stupor or been locked up by one of the other addicts or something.” Crais and D’Argo’s loud and angry denials weren’t really comprehensible, but she got the general idea. So, apparently, did he. “Whatever. What are you doing up here, anyway? Don’t tell me the starburst chamber’s clear already? Or did you get into another fight over the entree of the week?”

The following silence was so tense she was almost afraid one of them would attack him. *Could the jellfu have had more psychological effects than the addiction?*

Fortunately, at that point all chance of a fight was averted when one of Jool’s beakers exploded.

Out of the ensuing crashing, shrieks, swearing, and crunching noises, *he* said wearily, “Just go ahead and check the tier. But if Chi’s acting anything like these two, you have my blessing to leave her wherever you like. Talk to you later.”

Aeryn did not, however, seen any sign of Chiana on the tier in the next quarter-arn she spent looking. Indeed, everything up here would probably *benefit* from an acid bath. And she didn’t just mean the growths of jellfu along the walls.

Activating her comm, Aeryn addressed Pilot. “Tier one empty, Pilot. How is the rest of the procedure going?”

“Ah...” A brief pause. “They have evidently formulated enough acid to begin, although they aren’t confident it will be enough for the whole tier.”

“Acknowledged.” At least when they finished with tier one, they could just open the door and let all the acid rush down to tier two, without having to formulate a whole new batch. Aeryn started down a gentle, sloping ramp to tier two. “I’m off the tier. You can seal it now.”

Behind her, one of the great doors swung slowly shut, and she heard the faint hiss of air as it sealed. “Tier sealed,” Pilot said a moment later. “The DRDs have finished closing and rerouting conduits to transport the acid to tier one. Moya and I are ready. They are... still working on a few more connections in the labs.”

“Of course we’re not done. This frelling useless tubing is full of holes!” Jool said petulantly. Evidently Pilot was maintaining a channel. “I don’t think my clothes--”

“Doctor Princess?”

“*Now* what, Crichton?”

“Shut up. And connect this thing to that... that other thing, over there. The sort of shiny dark blue thing. By the Boolite.”

“You put that next to the Boolite?”

“Just shut up and connect it!”

At this rate, Aeryn would have plenty of time to get to Command even maintaining a slow, jellfu-conscious pace. Pilot cut the channel when it became apparent that nothing useful was being said, merely various orders, insults to lessar life forms, and dire threats involving jellfu, acid, and wardrobes. Even among the un-addicted, tempers were running a little short. Aeryn was grateful again that she’d assumed the duty of checking the tier. Even apart from avoiding too much contact with *him,* the rest of her crewmates were also being difficult. *Frell, what happens when the jellfu’s gone and they go into withdrawal...?* She made a silent vow to find some excuse to get off the ship for that period.

Just as she walked into Command, picking her way carefully through the thick mats of jellfu, the comm activated again. “All right, Pilot,” *he* said grimly, “we’re ready to give it a try.”

Pilot didn’t comment on the delay. “Commencing pumping the acid now. I will relay the DRD imagery to you on the screens.”

Aeryn directed her attention to the clamshell viewer as it lit up with an image of the peaceful, dusty tier one. Conduits and vents along the ceiling were opening. As she watched, a trickle of liquid began to emerge, running down the wall over the jellfu growths to the floor. It seemed negligable at first, but then the flow began to increase, from a trickle to a stream, and a stream to a rush. From the DRD’s position on the wall, they had a good view of the rising acid level on the floor. It did seem to be rising very slowly, though.

She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Pilot said, “It’s due to the volume to be filled. Moya is moving the acid as fast as she can.”

He sounded slightly defensive, and she hastened to reassure him. “No, Pilot, I wasn’t saying it was going too slow...”

“And that’s certainly not what it looks like from down here,” *he* put in. “We’re definitely gonna have to mix up some more of this stuff, even if we can reuse almost all of it... frell, I have no idea how much will be used killing the jellfu...”

That was right -- the acid would be ‘used up’ reacting with the jellfu to destroy it In fact, she could already see a few bubbles rising to the surface as it started to work. *Good.*

Well, standing in Command wouldn’t really help anything. “I’m going to start checking tier two,” she announced.

“It’s a plan,” he replied. “Oh, after you finish that you might want to get started on some of the stuff we know we *are* going to have to move -- personal belongings, food, tools... oh, and we’ll have to be sure to seal all the transport pods...”

“I know,” she said. “You just concentrate on the lab.” She took one last look at the viewer, which still showed the steady flow of acid. *This is insane.*

+++

*Oooohh, bubbly green acid -- my favorite.* Of course, it wasn’t green... and without anything to react with, it wasn’t particularly bubbly... *One out of three ain’t bad.* John scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and leaned for a moment on a table, one of the few jellfu-free surfaces. *God, I need some sleep.*

The lab was a disaster, crisscrossed with mismatched tubing, splashed with water and acid, scattered with the occasional shard from Jool’s exploding glassware, and thoroughly infested with jellfu. To add the crowning touch to the mess, John had stumbled while back away from a ruptured acid tube and had knocked part of the Boolite off the table -- he didn’t think Jool was going to forgive him for *that* anytime soon. Despite their care and the alleged mildness of the acid, John had five (relatively minor) acid burns, Jool had two, and had any stainable surfaces not been covered by jellfu, they would definitely have been showing marks. Lots of them.

He took a quick look around the room. Jool was fully occupied rescuing the Boolite, again, and the acid didn’t have to be mixed at the moment since they’d filled tier two with the acid from tier one, and only had to top it off a little, and now it was soaking. (John wished he could have seen the moment when the doors between the tiers opened, letting the wave of acid crash down, but unfortunately he’d been holding a rather large beaker of concentrated acid at the time.) Since there was really nothing to do at the moment, perhaps he’d take his own advice and work on things that would have to be moved... *like, my stuff.*

John managed to slip out of the lab without Jool noticing, discarding his stained labcoat on a table as he left. He couldn’t jog towards crew quarters because of the jellfu, but he managed a brisk enough pace. He’d pack and take his bags to Command... except that would have to be cleaned too. Ah, he had it -- he’d seal his stuff inside the Farscape. *Um, I probably ought to try and get everything -- clothes, blankets, the normal food cubes -- the alcohol -- all those odds and ends around the place -- gotta remember my recorder -- what am I going to do with the chessboard?*

For that matter, what the *frell* were they going to do with the dentics?

####### - Part 9

Aeryn checked briefly in the doorway of the hanger bay when she saw *him* next to his module. He appeared to be loading it with several bulging bags. The chessboard was stuffed haphazardly into one of them. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one to have figured out a way to avoid having to haul bags all over the ship while they got rid of the jellfu. “Hey,” she said, without thinking.

He froze for an instant, then gave her a friendly nod. “Droppin’ off your stuff for the Great Flood of ’37?”

“The great-- Never mind.” It was a lost cause. It always had been. “Have you seen Rygel? I would have expected him to be demanding help moving all of his... clutter to safety.”

“Not since I had to pull him off Jool’s lab samples.” He pushed the module’s canopy shut and hopped down to the clean floor -- so far, the hanger bay was clear except right along the walls. “Guess I ought to remind him that we’re on a schedule. I don’t really wanna deal with a frantic Hynerian trying to move it all in a quarter-arn... Damn, I really have to find Chiana.” He leaned against the module and rubbed his eyes.

Aeryn wondered how long it had been since he slept -- he looked haggard, his eyes red and dark-circled. They’d both been kept running ever since they’d discussed the jellfu in the maintenance bay... *Over a solar day.* She hadn’t slept either, of course, but she was used to sleep deprivation. “What are D’Argo and Crais doing?”

“Um... I’m not sure, actually.” He smiled faintly. “But we definitely told both of them about having to clean, and at the moment I can’t muster much interest in whether or not they kill each other. Think they’ll behave, though. I hope. Pilot say anything about how the acid treatment worked?”

She nodded. “The DRDs on tier one and the conduits we flooded are able to remove the jellfu much more easily. A lot of it seems to have washed down to tier two with the acid, though.”

“Well, nothing to do about that.” He tried to hide a yawn. “Can I help you with tier three?”

“Already done.” It had taken a little more time, but she’d actually finished before they’re flooded tier two. Aeryn hesitated, for a moment, then went on -- it was a matter of practicality, after all, not something she should get into the habit of avoiding. “Actually, there is something... Could I put my things in your module? Rygel will be in and out of the transport pods,” she continued hurriedly, “and with the mood D’Argo’s in right now--”

“You don’t want to touch his favorite toy, right.” He popped open the canopy again and waved towards it. “Go ahead.”

Aeryn carefully stowed her bags in the module and climbed down. “You should get some sleep,” she said.

He shook his head at once. “Still too much to do. Tiers to clear, acid to formulate... Jool to supervise... and the others... Are you worried at all about how D’Argo, Crais, Chiana, and Rygel are gonna react when it sinks in we’re taking the jellfu away?”

She *had* been thinking about it. “How much do you think the jellfu is affecting them? Mentally speaking.”

“I dunno...” He yawned again. “Crais and D’Argo are really... short-tempered. Think they may have shorter attention spans. I couldn’t really see any difference with Rygel -- he might not even be addicted. And of course no one knows where the frell Chiana is, so... I guess I’m the most worried about her. D’Argo and Cap’n Crunch are being real difficult, but I think they’re pulling themselves together enough to see we’re in danger. And Rygel -- well, he’s Rygel.”

Aeryn nodded. “I expect you’re right. They might become difficult when we try to make them stop eating it -- they may be planning on hoarding some -- but they won’t interfere with cleaning Moya. Chiana...”

“Chiana isn’t real big on self-control,” he finished. “But I don’t think she’d go the sabotage route, either. She’s--” he yawned again “--probably sulking. And she won’t be fun to be around for a while. I wish we could find her, though. Getting caught in that acid would *not* be fun.”

“What?” Aeryn asked. “I thought it was mild.”

He looked startled. “Well, yeah,” he replied after a moment. “For Moya it’s mild. For us thin-skinned lesser life forms, though--” He held up a hand so she could see two red, puffy patches on it, one across the backs of his fingers, the other on his palm. “Not so mild. It’s nothing serious,” he added. “I rinsed it off quickly. But, well, like the jellfu, prolonged exposure...”

“I see.” It was almost too bad. They weren’t filling any of the tiers to the ceiling, so if the acid hadn’t been dangerous it would have been... interesting... to just leave their errant crewmate where she was. “You really do need to sleep.”

“So do you,” he countered. “And both of us need to clear tier four. We’re getting into the tough areas.”

She shook her head. “Not really. Everyone’s taking their own belongings, correct? Well, there won’t be much else. Tier five may be more of a challenge, but it can wait. You’re going to be useless shortly.”

“I am not,” he protested immediately, and yawned.

It was at this point that Pilot contacted them. “Officer Sun?”

“Yes, Pilot?” She noted with irritation that the human was taking the opportunity to leave the hanger bay, presumably to work on tier four or five.

“The DRDs have cleared one of Moya’s maintenance conduits, permitting access to tier one. If you would be willing to evaluate the situation...”

“Of course,” she replied. She’s have to catch the human later.

+++

John was positive. D’Argo’s temper had gotten distinctly *worse* in the last arn. The last time he’d seen the Luxan so angry was... well, right before he’d gotten his head bashed in. To make matters worse, they were trying to move all the spare *weapons* to a secure -- meaning dry -- location. John really hoped D’Argo wasn’t approaching hyper-rage. *That’s the last thing we need right now.* Well, apart from Peacekeepers or other hostiles.

Finally, after D’Argo hurled a box of chakan oil cartridges down the corridor, John ventured to speak. “Everything okay?”

“Fine!” the Luxan roared. He stomped over to retrieve the box of cartridges. “Now will you hurry up, human?”

John had *not* been dawdling, although D’Argo’s new pace might succeed in leaving him behind. He sighed inwardly, hefted the straps of the four pulse rifles he was lugging higher on his shoulder, and quickened his steps. “Look, D’Argo, did you leave somethin’ important on tier one, or did Jool annoy you, or what? Because you’re not actin’ quite yourself. If something’s wrong...”

D’Argo scowled. “You... seem to be right about the food cubes having addictive properties.”

Realization dawned. “You’ve stopped eating it?”

“Yes!” A wealth of frustration was contained in the single word. “Crais and I agreed--”

*D’Argo and Crais, agreed?*

“--that being...” Unsurprisingly, D’Argo couldn’t get the word out. “That it was inappropriate to continue consuming such a substance.”

“So both of you went cold turkey,” John surmised. He found he had mixed feelings about this. It was definitely good to get D’Argo and Crais off the jellfu... but having both of them in the throes of jellfu withdrawal couldn’t make this operation any easier. *Whatever jellfu withdrawal is like.* Frell, he didn’t really know much about any sort of withdrawal -- he was lucky enough to have never had to coax a friend out of it, though he’d been on the sidelines occasionally... *But it would certainly explain the temper.*

“Cold... turkey?” D’Argo asked, with a studiously neutral expression.

“Uh, never mind. Look, Big Guy, we need to concentrate right now, but when this is over, if there’s anything I can do--”

“I know, John.” D’Argo sighed before speaking again and signalling the subject was closed. “Let’s take these down to the transport pods.”

####### - Part 10

Sometimes John felt like a master of bad timing. For example, he managed to stroll into the lab just as Jool realized she’d have to move the Boolite -- never mind the rest of the lab equipment -- all the way down to the transport pods. *I guess I should feel lucky she didn’t scream.*

He waited until she’d finished her little fit before speaking. “Still no sign of Chiana?”

“Of course not.” Jool glared at John as if the whole situation was his fault. “I hope you’re planning on helping me with all of this.”

John looked around the lab, at the racks of beakers and tubs of acid and the spiderweb of tubing, not to mention all the stuff that was *normally* in the lab. *Maybe I *should* take a nap.* “Okay, um... yeah, this is going to take some work. Let’s... leave the acid and stuff until last. For now, why don’t you start getting the diagnostic equipment and medicines and the rest ready to be moved. Get it out in the hall, even. I’ll try to round up Crais -- D’Argo’s clearing the maintenance bay. Have you seen Rygel?”

“Yes, emptying a food stash.”

“Of course. If there’s anything he could help with, drag him into it.” Not terribly likely, but Rygel did surprise them on occasion. “Look, you have a little time yet. We haven’t even gotten to tier three yet.” Did that mean there was time for a nap? “Um, so... D’Argo and Crais have stopped eatin’ the stuff. You know what the effects are gonna be?”

She gave him an exasperated look. “Crichton, how could I possibly know what the effects of jellfu withdrawal are?”

He should have seen that coming. “Well, how about your best guess? And how long d’you think it’ll take to wear off? Are we talkin’ a few days, weekens, monens...”

“More than a few days. It’ll take that long just to be sure it’s been completely digested.” Jool ignored his grimace of disgust and went on. “Beyond that, I really don’t know. It’s not as if I’ve had the chance to really examine any of them.”

And there was no time for her to do it now. “All right. You work on this stuff. Be as careful as you have to, and keep in touch with Pilot. If... if anyone asks, I’ll be in the hangar bay.”

“Whatever for?”

Because unlike his quarters, his module wasn’t contaminated with jellfu. “I’m taking a nap.”

+++

John knew it was possible to sleep in his module. He’d done it before after all. It was just... hard to do it now. *Probably because I really should still be working.* Or else because it was hard to sleep when you kept ending up leaning on packs of mechanical gewgaws, miscellaneous weapons, and a chessboard which, he only now realized, had some very sharp corners. He hoped he wasn’t sitting on anything breakable. Especially not anything breakable belonging to Aeryn. For that matter, he hoped he wouldn’t set off any of the weapons by accident.

He’d *finally* found a comfortable position and closed his eyes when someone cleared their throat a short distance away. “Crichton?”

It was Chiana. Finally. He reluctantly peeled his eyes open -- he must be even more tired than he’d thought -- and looked at her. She looked a little grubby and a little spacy, but all right. “Pip. Decide to rejoin the party?”

“What’s going on?” she asked. “I can’t get onto the upper tiers, the maintenance bay’s practically empty, everything from Zhaan’s lab is out in the corridor, I’ve hardly seen any DRDs around, and now I find you in here--” she eyed the module’s contents -- “looking like you’re planning on eloping with Aeryn--”

“Shut up, Chiana.” He was just glad Aeryn hadn’t been present to hear that. “You been hiding on the lower tiers?”

She shrugged. “Well, yeah. D’Argo was was saying I’ve been hoarding food, and I *haven’t* been. He and Crais have been a pair of--”

“So I gather you have no idea what’s going on.”

Chiana looked a little wary. “Well... what is going on?”

John sighed. “Well, the jellfu -- those alleged food cubes one of you got at the last commerce planet -- not only are not food cubes, they are addictive. And they are alive, and growing all over Moya. We have been driven to rather extreme measures to try to get rid of it and flooding the ship with acid, tier by tier, to kill the stuff.”

“Acid?” Chiana whispered. She paled, if possible. “But Moya--”

Obviously she, too, had thought of the metallite incident. “Too mild to hurt Moya,” he assured her quickly. “But not too mild to ruin our stuff, so I suggest you get to clearing out your quarters. Then you can help Jool with the lab.”

“Help Jool?” She made an exaggerated face, but at least recognized this was a crisis. “Oh, all right. You still have to explain about this addiction business.”

“You can ask Jool. She listed a whole bunch of chemicals... But don’t forget to clear your quarters. It’s everyone for themself.”

“I’ll do that.” Chiana started to climb down, then abruptly reappeared. “Everyone cleared just their own quarters?”

John blinked. “Um, yeah.”

“What about Stark’s?”

“Stark’s-- Aw, *frell*!” No one had thought of Stark’s quarters... or more to the point, Stark’s quarters and Zhaan’s belongings. *All of Zhaan’s stuff. On tier four.* John groaned and levered himself out of the cockpit. “Thanks, Chi. I’ll go get it.”

She nodded, satisfied, and climbed down to get out of his way. “You want any help?”

“No, no, I can manage. You get your stuff and go see Jool.” It wasn’t as if he couldn’t handle packing up some bags and taking them back to the hanger bay. There was plenty of time -- last he’d heard, they hadn’t even flooded tier three. If only he didn’t still feel half-asleep. He must have been just on the verge of getting some rest when Chiana decided to pop up again. *Just my luck.*

+++

Looking around tier two, Aeryn wondered if they’d have to flood Moya again, this time with water, just to rinse the jellfu out. It certainly wouldn’t be a bad idea to get rid of as much of the acid as they could. She’d already gotten a few minor burns from touching damp walls. *Another flood would probably be a bit extreme, though.*

The DRDs didn’t seem to be having much trouble getting the jellfu off the walls and floor now. No longer jiggling, it lay in messy piles in the middle of the corridor. They were going to have to get it off the ship *somehow*. Maybe D’Argo and Crais and some shovels.

She sighed. “Pilot, status?”

“Tier four is clear,” he replied promptly. “I believe tier three is almost finished... soaking, so we will be able to proceed shortly. Tier five may take a little longer. Joolushko is still attempting to clear the lab.”

With, Aeryn knew, very little competent help. She was once again glad to be on a different tier and out of their way. D’Argo and Crais were apparently, in addition to getting bad-tempered... worse-tempered than usual... getting a little shaky from the withdrawal. This in turn did nothing to improve their tempers, and meant that Jool was doing a lot of the cargo-hauling herself, sparking another round of Jool whining. Crichton had picked an inopportune time for a three-arn nap, though to be fair she had told him to get some sleep...

*I just thought of him as Crichton. I thought of *him* as Crichton.*

*Well,* retorted her logical side, *you can’t keep saying *him* forever.*

True. Completely true. And it *was* his name -- what else was she supposed to call him? But it still felt like a betrayal. But how could it be a betrayal just to use a name? And--

*Enough. A Peacekeeper wouldn’t worry about a name.* Her mouth twitched into a bitter smile. *You never can go back to what you were, can you.* She’d outgrown that particular box a long time ago. And she had to live with it.

“Aeryn?” Pilot asked, and she realized she hadn’t answered him.

“Understood, Pilot,” she said. “I’ll continue up here, then move to tier three after we’ve flooded four.” And then, after she’d had a chance to compose herself, she’d comm *him*... comm Crichton... and wake him up. He needed to help finish clearing tier five.

####### - Part 11

After he got moving, John was surprised to discover that he actually felt more awake. *Maybe I just needed to rest my eyes for a bit.* He loped up onto tier four, then headed for Stark’s deserted quarters, stepping around the biggest jellfu mats.

Stark’s quarters were not only deserted, they were empty.

Well, not quite empty, even if you didn’t count the jellfu. A few of the Banik’s meager possessions had been left behind, but not many, and nothing important. All of Zhaan’s things were gone. The cupboard doors hung open, their contents removed.

Removed *recently*, from the pattern of jellfu growth. It looked like someone had beat him here to clear the room, albeit not thoroughly. But who? Aeryn had been very busy, as were all the DRDs, D’Argo and Crais were... distracted, Jool wouldn’t even think of it, and it obviously wasn’t Chiana, so.

*Aha.* He grinned. Every now and then, Rygel surprised them and displayed something that could almost pass for altruism. Of course, if John mentioned it, the Hynerian would just claim to have been snurching Stark’s belongings.

*We’re a strange bunch,* John thought, turning to leave. *I guess I’d better head for the lab--*

There was a strange hiss of air, and he broke off. John frowned, listening. It sounded almost like... a seal closing? *Are they about to flood tier three?* He went back to the ramp to look--

It was the door down to tier five that had sealed. The door to tier three was slowly *un*sealing.

*Oh, frell.*

John stayed frozen for only a microt, then he bolted back down the corridor -- as if there was somewhere to run -- mind racing. *Frell, frell, frell -- gotta get away from the first big wave -- how the frell did this happen? We hadn’t even gotten to three yet!* Unless, of course, he really *had* fallen asleep in his module, and hadn’t realized it... “Frell.” Saying it aloud didn’t help much.

He could hear the rush of water beginning as the door opened -- or rather, acid. This was *not* good, he already had the burns to prove it--

“Got an idea,” he muttered. Of course, there was no one there to groan...

John raced into the nearest cell and clambered up on the table. This would -- hopefully -- get him out of the way of the initial wave, at least. *Only I think the final level of acid is going to be a bit higher than this table.*

And then the wave was there, rushing past down the corridor, reaching nearly to the ceiling. It was even carrying some stuff with it -- lumps of dead jellfu, assorted loose debris from the upper tiers. *Just so long as I don’t join the rubble.* Fortunately, as he’d guessed, the wash of acid into the cell was nowhere near as high. It did, however, slosh around furiously, splashing the tabletop and his boots -- the leather seemed to provide some protection -- and flinging a few stinging drops on his face and arms. Then the acid ‘settled’ into a more steady flow, filling the tier.

It was going to be higher than the tabletop, all right. And he wasn’t about to count on his leather pants to protect him for very long. Besides, if it got inside his boots... *not* a fun thought.

John speculatively eyed the grille of the cell door.

+++

“What, are we supposed to make a numbered diagram?”

“I sorted it out this far once already, I don’t want to do it again! So will you just -- that’s *fragile*! Don’t hold it like that!”

“Jool, if you’re going to be so picky about this, do it yourself!”

“I’m just being careful!”

“Ow -- frell!”

“Watch the acid.”

“You might have warned me a microt ago.”

“You’re all being ridiculous.”

“Oh, like you’re much better -- don’t eat that! That’s disgusting.”

Aeryn turned off her comm on yet another piece of evidence that her crewmates were making no progress on clearing tier five. It sounded like Chiana had reappeared, for all the good that did them. Quite apart from Chiana’s usual... issues, she was probably the most addicted to the jellfu at the moment. It was definitely time to wake *him*... wake *Crichton* up.

She activated her comm again. “Crichton?”

There was a lengthy pause, but when he finally replied, he didn’t sound nearly as sleepy as she’d expected. “Aeryn. Hi. I’m in a bit of a situation here...”

In fact, he sounded rather tense. “Situation? I thought you were sleeping.”

“Well, I *was*... Chiana woke me up... I didn’t realize how much time had passed...” He trailed off, and sighed. “So when she mentioned Zhaan’s things, I didn’t think it was any big deal to just nip on up and get ’em.”

Aeryn closed her eyes. “Crichton. Tell me you’re not trying to say you’re on tier four.”

“Uh, let’s just say I’ve definitely used up my day’s carelessness allowance.”

*Up to his neck in acid--* Her mind flashed to those burns on his hands, and then to burns of a different sort, that had been just superficial evidence of far worse damage-- She felt the tears start to intrude. *Not now, frell it all!* She forced calm. *Burns-- no.* Besides, he hadn’t exactly sounded as if he were in pain. “Are you... all right?”

“Um, yeah, for the moment. I’m hanging onto one of the cell doors. You know, the grille -- piece of cake. I’m, um, up by the ceiling, and I think the level’s stopped rising, so... I can just hang on here until it’s time to drain the tier...”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied automatically. “That would be arns. I’ll call Pilot and -- frell.” Let the acid go down a tier and cover all of the still-unmoved medical equipment?

There was a faint chuckle. “Still haven’t gotten their act together?”

The phrasing was very strange, but she got the idea. “No. They’re all fighting. I’ll have them hurry up,” Aeryn said grimly.

“No big hurry. I’m okay.”

“I told you not to be ridiculous. And you have *definitely* used up your ‘day’s allowance’ of carelessness. I can’t believe--” Well, actually, she could, if he hadn’t realized how long he’d been asleep. And to rescue what little they had left of Zhaan-- Aeryn hesitated, knowing his effort had probably been in vain, then asked. “And... Zhaan’s belongings?”

He chuckled. “Someone beat me to it -- I think Rygel. Probably all stowed safe in a transport pod.”

So he was, essentially, hanging onto a grille a handsbredth above very deep acid because of several major miscommunications or lack of communication. *And I thought not talking was a *solution*. It seems to be the opposite.* She didn’t really want to think about that right now... “All right. I’ll tell the others to move that equipment *now*. And I’ll see if there are any other options. Just... hang on.”

“I have every intention of doing so, believe me.” But how long could he realistically cling, probably sideways, to that grille?

+++

John shifted and hooked his knee tighter around the grille. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up. Already his hands and legs were starting to ache. But since the only other option was joining the jellfu in the murky, bubbling acid, he figured he’d have to manage. Or else procure a new skin somewhere. *And I’m kind of attached to this one.*

His comm jolted back to life as apparently everyone on the ship starting yelling, berating him for his carelessness, asking if he was okay, and offering suggestions. *Just what I needed to make the situation perfect...*

####### - Part 12

If he’d had a hand free, John would have turned off his comm so he wouldn’t have to listen to the escalating racket down in the lab. *Are they trying to clear the place or kill each other?* At this rate the acid would *evaporate* before they could let it down to tier five. Aeryn hadn’t said anything in a while -- he hoped she was navigating the conduits back down to the lower tiers to kick some eemas into gear.

His shoulder was starting to ache. Oh, his hands and knees were already sore from the grille edges digging into them, but this was a bit deeper. *Muscle strain. Great.* He so did not want to fall into the acid...

Down in the lab, from the sounds of it, things were not improving. Voices arose out of a background of clatters, squelches, and the occasional splash -- or scuffle.

“Will you give me that!” That was Jool, still on edge and rather shrill.

“Rygel, stop smirking and *help*!” Definitely D’Argo.

“Oh, fine, you pack of yotzes!” Rygel. “Where is the Boolite going, exactly?”

Chiana giggled. “Doesn’t look to me like it’s going anywhere--”

“I mean where are we *putting* it, you little tralk!”

“Well, you should have said so.” Chiana sounded quite pleased with herself. There was a chewing noise.

“Chiana, I told you not to eat any more of that!”

John winced. *Bad move, D’Argo.*

“And what gives you the right to tell me what to do?”

“Just stop eating the frelling--” D’Argo broke off with a thud, a clatter, and a small crash. John held his breath, wondering what had happened. There was a brief, startled silence, *not* a good sign, before Jool spoke.

“D’Argo? Are you all right? Someone help me, he’s passed out--”

“No!” D’Argo protested. “No. I’m fine. I was just...”

“Falling over?” Rygel suggested. “What the matter with you now, you stupid Luxan?”

“Probably withdrawal,” Jool said. “Dizziness seems to be one of the symptoms. Don’t get up until your head is clear, D’Argo. I don’t want you falling into an acid tank.”

John tried to find a way to rest his head on the grille. His neck was getting sore, too. *If I make it out of this okay -- *after* I make it out of this okay -- I am going to have so many stiff muscles...* It sounded like the others weren’t escaping completely unscathed, either. “You all right, D’Argo?”

“I’m fine, John,” the Luxan replied. “You’re the one we should be worrying about. Now, everyone, we need to move the equipment in the--” Another heavy thud.

Chiana’s voice was caustic. “He may be fine, but he can’t stand up.”

“I’m just a little... dizzy,” D’Argo admitted reluctantly. “But I’m sure I can stand--”

Thump.

“D’Argo, you obviously can*not* stand, so will you just crawl out of the way?” Rygel said. “Some of us still *are* capable of work--”

“As if you ever work--”

“This is never going to get done--”

“Quite whining and help me!”

“Now who’s whining?”

“Frell you!”

“People!” John said, loudly enough to be heard over the noise. “I really, really, do *not* want to be stuck here all day -- don’t bother telling me how stupid I was -- just please get the equipment moved? And arguing is not helping. And,” he added, raising his voice over the jumble of replies, “I do not wanna hear whose fault it is. D’Argo, if you’re not feeling better soon, maybe you should get *yourself* to the transport pods, or at least down a few tiers. Crais, watch out for *your* withdrawal symptoms coming on... I expect Rygel doesn’t have to worry about that. You can all move the equipment. I’m sure the Boolite would rather be rescued in a bucket than left in the acid. Maybe Rygel can carry the bucket. Does that work?”

None of the responses were cheerful, but at least they didn’t seem to be arguing with him. Probably because he was (a) not in the room to yell at, making it much less fun, and (b) they didn’t really want him to fall in the acid. They were just distracted and not thinking straight, not to mention under a lot of stress. *But I’d be a lot more forgiving if I wasn’t depending on them to get me out of here...*

Trying again to shift his weight into a more comfortable position, John spoke very softly into his comm. “Pilot, *please* tell me that you and Aeryn have some sort of plan, because things aren’t lookin’ good in the lab.”

+++

“...aren’t lookin’ good in the lab.”

Aeryn paused in the crawlspace she was traversing to comment, “That’s an understatement.” The crew was not in one of its better moments.

“Yeah, well, you heard that withdrawal’s caught up with D’Argo and now he can’t stand up?”

“Ah... no, that’s a new development.” She’d had Pilot eliminate the quarrel-transmitting comms from what she was receiving. Aeryn started moving again, increasing her pace. If D’Argo was incapacitated by withdrawal, Crais couldn’t be far behind... and that would leave Rygel, Jool, and Chiana to clear the rest of the tier of medical equipment and other miscellany. Not to mention D’Argo and Crais. *Tier four is going to be *very* clean.* “Crichton, we do have a backup plan to retrieve you,” she said.

“Oooh... a plan,” he said, adopting a childlike voice. “Those are fun.”

“Yes, well, just so long as it’s not one of yours.” Aeryn clambered out of the crawlspace and onto tier six. Now, to find what she was looking for... she ought to check the maintenance bays first.

He chuckled. “Which never work, I know.” But there was a wheeze to his laugh, a note of strain in his voice, which she didn’t like.

“Crichton? Are you all right?” There was a pause, and she added sternly, “The *truth*, Crichton.”

He hesitated again before replying. “I’m gettin’ pretty sore, Aeryn. Tired. Muscle fatigue. This isn’t a great position to be hanging’ in. I’m not lettin’ go just yet, though.”

“See that you don’t.” She hurried up.

“Yes, ma’am.” For a little while there was silence from the comm, save for a little labored breathing. The strain must be getting worse. Then, “D’you mind if I keep talking? I kinda want to... keep my mind off things.”

“Of course you can keep talking, Crichton. Do you ever stop?” Maintenance bay four, still not clear of jellfu -- or the rest of its contents, for that matter. Hopefully it had... *Ah, yes.*

“I’m not gonna dignify that with a reply. How long do you think D’Argo and Crais will be down with the withdrawal?” He didn’t make her come up with a reply, but forged on ahead in monologue. “Jool wouldn’t give me an estimate, when I asked her. It might be a while, though. I hope they aren’t gonna get uncontrollable cravings. Not sure which’d be worse... Pip begging us to let her have some, or D’Argo trying to make it go away by denying it and takin’ his frustration out on everyone else. That usually ends up pretty ugly... we got real lucky the last time. *I* was really lucky last time.”

“Last time?” Aeryn asked, securing her supplies for the long climb back to tier two.

“Hasn’t anyone told you...? Well, I guess no one would. Long story. Jool busted D’Argo’s ship and it decided to kill all of us, and D’Argo threw a temper tantrum. Chi told me he pitched his Qualta Blade into the chasm in Pilot’s chamber.”

*He what?* “His Qualta Blade?” Aeryn asked, incredulous. “Why did he do that?”

“Told you, he was having a temper tantrum. Too much stress. The blade-throwing thing sure startled Pilot and Chiana, though. Wish I’d been there to see it... of course, given his mood right then, if I had been there it might not’ve been the Qualta Blade...” He trailed off. “I’m rambling, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s all right,” Aeryn said. He was tense and scared, and he needed to talk. “I’d like to hear about it.” To her surprise, she found it wasn’t a lie. She hadn’t tried to learn anything about what had happened on Moya... hadn’t had the heart for it... but this story sounded fairly safe. Crew messes up, then gets out of it. “So Jool broke D’Argo’s ship... How did she manage to do that, by the way?”

“Hair in the controls,” Crichton replied. “So the ship decided to auto-destruct and sent out an energy wave, D’Argo went ballistic, and I managed to bang my head and went down for the count, so I missed out on all the fun stuff.” Another laugh, then a low grunt of pain. “Ribs’re gettin’ a bit sore. But back to the story, I didn’t even get to wade in the bat dren... huh, have to ask Pilot about the acid and the mess down there... ow.” He paused again. “M’okay, elbow just doesn’t wanna change position. So, the energy wave has fried all of Moya’s active systems, and Jool’s having hysterics...”

“Shocking.” Aeryn wished there were some way for her to run back up to the upper tiers. Her plan should work... or at least, she thought it should work... but she didn’t want to leave Crichton there alone a microt longer than she had to.

####### - Part 13

“...and that’s about when I woke up. I was a little confused to find myself lying in the side hatch with a bunch of provisions, no lights, and no clothes, so naturally I wandered off to find out what was going on, wearing a blanket toga. I was, uh, still a little out of it.” John paused at Aeryn’s faint chuckle, wondering just what about that was funny but too happy to hear her laughing to ask. “I just managed to inform D’Argo and Chi that the lights were out before I passed out again.”

“I’m sure they were surprised to hear about the lights,” Aeryn said. “So, how long did it take Jool to get the bat dren out of her clothes?”

It was John’s turn to chuckle, despite the strain throughout his ribcage. “Never mind her clothes, it wouldn’t come off her *skin*. She was, uh, less than happy about that. And Chiana, I’m afraid, didn’t help much.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” There were some faint clatters. “That everything?”

She had no idea how much he’d left out... but he certainly wasn’t about to tell her. “Oh, just about. Apart from lots and lots of repairs. Jool patched things up with D’Argo, Chi and Jool had a concluding bicker... ow.” His whole torso was getting stiff from hanging on the grille. “Um, Aeryn, I think maybe I’ve talked enough for now... could maybe listen in on the others for a while?”

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” she agreed readily. “Pilot?”

*She must be worried about me. Either that or she’s gone soft in the last few arns... and that’s a lot less likely than her worrying about me.*

There was somewhat less arguing and somewhat more working coming from the comm now, although they hadn’t calmed down by any means. Among other things, there seemed to be an ongoing dispute as to whether or not D’Argo was going to go sit in a transport pod. The Luxan was evidently up and walking again, but he kept bumping into things and listing over to the side, much to Chiana’s amusement. John hoped she wouldn’t provoke D’Argo into violence. It might have been jellfu or it might not, but she was being even more of a pest than usual. It didn’t help that everyone was expecting Crais to fall over at any microt.

As it happened, Crais didn’t.

He became violently nauseated instead. Even hearing it only over the comm, John winced.

“Oh, eeww!”

“Can’t you find a bucket?!”

“Shut up!”

“Waste of good food...”

“Rygel, *you* shut up.”

*All right, being stuck here has its good side...*

+++

Eying her setup dubiously, Aeryn sighed and adjusted the welder. “Pilot,” she called, “how is Moya?” Her tech skills had come a long way since she first arrived on Moya, but this was a bit... different. *Fewer possibilities for error,* she told herself firmly. It was simple and straightforward, just a little welding. She took a deep breath, knelt down, and began the first weld.

“Better, thank you,” Pilot replied. “The acid is working. All of Moya’s critical conduits are now clear, and the DRDs are moving on to work on secondary conduits.”

“Good.” She was right -- this really wasn’t so hard. In fact, it was almost easy. “And the others?”

A brief pause. “Unchanged,” Pilot said. “They are still... attempting... to clear the lab. Crais appears to have started withdrawal and is suffering from severe nausea. Chiana is in the central chamber. She is, ah, eating jellfu.”

*We’re definitely going to have some trouble there when this is over.* There, that was the second weld. “I suppose there isn’t much we can do about that. Later, after I’m done here, I’ll take Crichton and go motivate them. They’re obviously having some trouble keeping focused on the task at hand.” Unlike her. She was quite occupied with the task at hand.

“Aeryn,” Pilot asked hesitantly, “are you sure this is a good idea?”

Aeryn didn’t pause in her welding. “Can we spare that equipment, the medscanners and the rest of it? No. You heard Crichton. Still can hear him, if you’re monitoring. He’s wearing out. Do you really think the others will be able to clear away the equipment before he loses his grip?” Lost his grip and fell into the acid, skin blistering, peeling-- *Stop.*

“Well... perhaps not. And I understand the need to retrieve Crichton as quickly as possible, but this plan--”

“Is unfortunately the only one we’ve come up with,” Aeryn interrupted. “And it’s not that risky. As long as I’m careful and the doors down to tier five don’t get opened too soon, I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.”

Pilot still sounded worried. “I’ll be sure to keep the doors from opening too soon...” He was still feeling guilty about inadvertently stranding Crichton, though there was no way he could have known the human had wandered up to tier four. They’d all be a lot happier when the whole jellfu affair was over.

“That’s all I can ask,” Aeryn said firmly. “I’ll handle the rest.” She finished her final weld and stepped back to view her work. *It is a little... ungainly.*

Sitting on the deck before her was a large, flat piece of metal welded to four gas tanks she had carried up from the maintenance bay. It was a rush job, nothing pretty, and not even as good as she could have done given a bit more time, but it made a serviceable pontoon boat, and that was the important part. With a pole to propel the thing, she should be able to simply float through the flooded tier, collect Crichton, and return to tier three.

*It should be simple. But it’s never simple.*

Well, she’d deal with the complications when they arose. For now, she had a pole to find and a boat to launch.

Of course, she could act to prevent one possible complication-- “Oh, and Pilot?”

“Yes, Aeryn?”

“Don’t tell Crichton what I’m doing. He’ll go fahrbot, and that wouldn’t help anything.”

+++

“Are you completely fahrbot?!”

Rygel’s enraged exclamation jerked John’s attention back to the comm... and a good thing, too. However much sleep he’d gotten was evidently not enough. Without movement to keep him awake, and past the initial tension of his position, his eyelids were beginning to grow heavy. Falling asleep would *not* be good. *Course, my foot’s already asleep...*

“There is no frelling way I will do that!” The Hynerian was continuing his tirade. “If you think for one microt that I will--”

“Do what, Sparky?” John asked.

It was D’Argo who answered. “Jool says it would be very complicated to move the acid-mixing... setup... elsewhere and reconnect it. To save time, Rygel will stay here to monitor the equipment and adjust it if necessary.”

“I will *not*!” Rygel repeated.

“You’ll just stay on your hoverthrone, Rygel,” Crais said sharply. He must have recovered from his latest bout of nausea. “It’s no different from what you always do.”

“Besides,” D’Argo put in again, “Hynerians are an aquatic species.”

“Aquatic does not equal acid-resistant!” Rygel replied.

John had to admit that Rygel had a point -- if he fell into the acid he’d get as burned as anyone else, so being aquatic really had nothing to do with it -- but D’Argo and Crais evidently did not feel the same way. “Then you’ll have to be careful,” the Luxan growled. “But you *are* going to do it!”

“I am *not*! You can find some other way of monitoring it!”

“Why, when we already have one?”

“Is anyone going to help me move this or not?”

“I told you to stop whining!”

“I was not--”

John sighed and tried again to find a place to lean his head. *We gotta find ’em a twelve-step program. That or conflict resolution...* The thought of the Moya crew in conflict resolution almost made him laugh. They’d scare the mediator away. “Pilot, could I not listen to the three-ring circus for a while? They’re, uh...”

“I understand completely, Crichton,” Pilot replied. “We are working on an alternate plan.”

“Good.” *Cause my hands are losing feeling.* Everything hurt. *I wonder how bad the acid burns would be if I just tried to swim back to tier three?* Bad enough to make that option an absolute last resort. But he really hoped Pilot and Aeryn came up with something... soon.

####### - Part 14

There were some situations that Peacekeeper training just couldn’t prepare you for. Launching a pontoon boat you just made yourself on a Leviathan partially, and deliberately, flooded with acid, to rescue -- well -- *Crichton* was definitely one of them. For that matter, Peacekeeper training hadn’t been exactly outstanding in the matter of boats.

It didn’t seem to be something Leviathan Pilots knew much about, either.

“Is it supposed to do that?” Pilot asked anxiously. “It looks... rather... unsafe.”

“It seems stable enough,” Aeryn said, experimentally rocking back and forth a few times. The boat wobbled a little, but didn’t really tip. Since it was square, and had a canister under each side, she’d just have to be sure not to put all the weight in one place. “I don’t think boats are ever completely stable.”

“If you say so.” Pilot did not sound entirely convinced. “Are you... beginning the rescue mission now?”

This had to be one of the strangest rescue missions she’d ever gone on... *Only Crichton could manage something like this,* she thought, torn between exasperation and affection -- normal for dealing with the human. “Yes, Pilot, I am. Keep me informed of any new developments.”

“Of course, Aeryn.”

Aeryn’s personal prediction was that any new developments would involve their crewmates down in the lab somehow managing to make things even more complicated than they were already. *Now, how would they do that? Create a dimensional tear... kill each other...* Carefully, she picked up her pole and pushed the boat off. She was about halfway down a ramp from tier three to tier four, right where the acid began, lapping absurdly at the corridor floor as if it was some natural body of water. The ‘shore’ faded quickly behind her as she navigated Moya’s twists and turns.

Everything looked, different somehow. The halls were darker than usual, and strange reflections and shadows danced on the ceiling and walls. Not that there was much wall visible. The ceiling gradually became lower and lower until she almost, though not quite, had to duck her head. Moya’s corridors had never seemed more mazelike.

Aeryn glanced down at the acid. It had been nearly clear in the lab; now it was cloudy and murky. There were clumps of jellfu floating in it, bloated and dead and still revolting. *I can’t believe I ever ate that.*

Her boat arrived at another fork in the corridor, and she paused. *This is ridiculous, I *know* which way to go...*

“Commander Crichton is down the passage to the right, Aeryn,” Pilot said, in response to her unvoiced question. “He is still holding on and -- ah -- making faces at one of the DRDs.”

“Well, I’d better go stop him,” Aeryn said dryly, and poled the boat determinedly to the right.

She heard Crichton before she saw him, voice easily recognizable despite the odd, echoing acoustics of the flooded tier. Even if his voice hadn’t been recognizable, what he was saying was. “So, I was wondering, you guys ever tried formin’ a labor union? Shorter arns, more batteries, that sort of thing?” A pause. “Pilot, I know you just wanna keep an eye on me, but looking at that DRD’s givin’ me a crick in my neck--”

“Maybe you should get down, then,” Aeryn suggested.

He turned his head, saw her, and grinned. “Hey, it’s a lifeboat! I’m saved!” He briefly addressed the DRD again. “Thanks, Lassie, but Aeryn’s here to pull me out of the well now. You can go have a bone.”

*Do I want to know... No, I don’t think so.* In any event, it did no good to ask. Instead, she poled the boat right up to the cell door he was clinging to. “You’re going to have to get off the door and onto the boat *slowly*, so you don’t upset it... *can* you get off slowly?” His arms and legs appeared to be locked in position, and he was grimacing as he tried to unhook a foot.

“Um... think so. S’real good to see you, Aeryn.” One foot was abruptly out of the grille, and Aeryn made sure the boat was right below him, and she was far enough away to balance his additional weight. “Let’s see, where... there, good.” He lowered his knee onto the boat. “Okay, wait, um...” He let go with one hand, painfully tugged it out of the grille, and then suddenly he’d sprawled onto the boat on his back, Aeryn grabbing both at him, to keep him from slipping into the acid, and her pole, to stabilize the wildly rocking boat.

Much to her relief -- and Crichton’s, and probably Pilot’s -- the boat settled down fairly quickly. Crichton slowly sat up, pulling up his legs and grimacing. “Ouch,” he muttered. “C’mon, legs, you’ve done nothing but ask for blood for arns, and now that you get it, what do I hear? More complaints?”

Aeryn eyed him. She couldn’t recall him addressing his legs before. “Are you all right?”

He nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Thanks to you.” His hand shifted to the back of his neck, pinching at a tendon as he made another face. “I’m never gonna do *that* again. Thanks for coming after me.”

“Well, I couldn’t handle the others all by myself,” Aeryn replied calmly, starting to pole the boat back towards tier three. He was all right. No more danger of burns... well, no more than she was in, anyway. “They listen to you occasionally.”

“Are we talkin’ about the same people?” Crichton shook both his hands in the air in front of him, shaking out his arms. “Frell, but I’m gonna be sore tomorrow...”

+++

Every muscle in John’s body ached, he was hungry, thirsty, and tired, and he was floating on a makeshift pontoon boat in a lake of acid, but things were under control, and Aeryn was talking to him, so life was good. Of course, who knew what was happening on the rest of the ship... “I wonder if they got Rygel to stay in the lab,” he said, then added, “D’Argo and Crais wanted him to, to monitor the equipment. Rygel wasn’t so keen on it.”

Aeryn’s mouth twitched. “Given that D’Argo and Crais are in withdrawal, I expect Rygel will escape.”

“Yeah, probably. We just have to get down there, get things movin’ on the tier-clearin’ so we can get the place cleaned up.” John ducked involuntarily as a strut passed overhead. “This is real weird... boating around in here.”

“Not something I ever anticipated, either,” Aeryn replied.

“I’m very glad you thought of it, though,” John added softly. “I... was starting to wear out. Thank you.”

Aeryn was silent for several long moments before she spoke. “I’m glad I thought of it in time, then,” she said.

John could think of several things he wanted to say, but none of them were allowable under ‘not pushing,’ so he just said, “Thanks,” again, and stared into the cloudy acid. The ramp leading up into tier three was visible, as were some patches of dead jellfu. God, but the ship was a mess. “We’re gonna have some work to do even after the jellfu is gone...”

“What do you mean *we*, Crichton?” Aeryn said sharply.

He turned to her, caught off guard, his heart freezing. *I wasn’t expecting-- What did I do wrong?* “Um, I just thought--”

Aeryn’s face had resumed its Peacekeeper mask. “That plan is not acceptable. I did not bring the jellfu on board, nor did I become addicted to it,” she continued, in a severe tone. “You also did not bring it on board or become addicted. Instead, unlike certain others, *we* have spent the last few solar days attempting to rectify the situation. After we have finished flushing the tiers with acid, I do *not* think *we* will have a lot of cleaning up to do.”

She’d timed it perfectly, and the raft grounded on the ramp floor just as she finished. Aeryn rose as gracefully as was possible and headed up the corridor, leaving John to drag himself to his feet, stretching stiff muscles. *No, I guess *we* won’t.* Grinning, he limped up the corridor after Aeryn.

####### - Part 15

Of course he couldn’t hear anything, but John could still imagine the deafening rush as the jellfu and acid were expelled from Moya’s bottom tier into space, joining the jellfu they’d spaced earlier. Even from quite a distance -- from Command -- it looked disgusting. “So, Pilot, you’re sure we won’t get ticketed for littering or anything?”

Pilot’s reply was weary but tolerant, “If you’re asking if anyone will object to this, I doubt it.”

“Yeah, unless they run their ship into it...” He hoped they weren’t dumping in the shipping lanes -- they were heading for a commerce planet, since most of their food supplies had... had... gone jellfu on them. John could picture the jellfu splattered all over the nose of a ship -- and he’d once thought windshield bugs were bad. “Not our problem, I guess.” He stepped back from the console to allow a DRD room to hose it off. They still hadn’t rinsed away all of the acid, or shoveled out the dead jellfu. Which reminded him... “We check and make sure all the jellfu’s really dead?”

“None is showing any signs of growth,” Pilot said. He sounded quite satisfied with the jellfu’s demise. “As soon as the dead deposits are removed, the DRDs will conduct a thorough search for any remaining deposits or... stashes.” Rygel had earlier been seen emptying several stashes worth of jellfu out a hatch, but there was still Chiana to consider.

“Great.” John stood for a moment, absently rubbing his sore arms. He still hadn’t managed to get rid of all the aches, or the limp, and guessed that it would take at least a few more days. He was lucky, he knew, to have gotten off so lightly. Jool had even come up with some cream that helped a lot with the mild acid burns he did have. As for her other patients... He activated his comm. “Hey, Jool -- makin’ any progress with detox?”

She sighed loudly -- he could hear retching in the background. “They’re all still in withdrawal.” And from the sound of it, not being very good patients. “Some of the symptoms can be temporarily alleviated with a specific counteragent for baritocin, but that will only stop the more obvious problems for a little while, and it won’t help the addiction. Anyway we don’t have very much of it. I think there’s a compound that might help them process it through more quickly, but we don’t have any.”

“Huh. This a rare compound?”

“No, it’s actually fairly common, but-- Chiana! Do you need to be locked in a *cell*?!”

“It wouldn’t do any good,” Rygel said faintly in the background, “there’s dead jellfu in all of them, too.”

“Oh, shut up, Princess! Like *you* can tell me what to do.”

“Chiana, you should not be eating that. Not only is it addictive, but it’s been soaked in acid.” D’Argo didn’t sound very happy... and his voice was wavering a little. Someone, presumably Crais, was vomiting again. Chiana and Rygel raised their voices, and the whole background became a dull roar of argument.

*Frell. I’m getting another headache.* John rubbed the bridge of his nose, then eyed the image that Pilot had just put up on the clamshell. *Ah, yes.* “Jool, listen up. Here’s what you’re gonna do...”

+++

Through DRD eyes, the composition of the acid in the tray was readily apparent. It was, as Pilot had requested, not at all concentrated. Jool came over to the table, picked up the gelpad and frowned at it, then placed it back in the tray of acid. “I need another rag,” she muttered.

Pilot had to hope she’d be ready soon. Moya had calmed down a great deal now that the jellfu was just so much debris to be cleared, but this had done nothing to get rid of the jellfu attempting to grow on Pilot. Jool was going to be coming up with some acid and cleaning equipment to help the DRDs try to get rid of it.

Movement in the lab -- D’Argo was just getting up off his cot, grimacing. Pilot was relieved to see the Luxan was no longer weaving back and forth. D’Argo, however, did not look happy. “All right. Now, where’s Rygel--”

Time to speak up. “Ka D’Argo,” Pilot said, projecting his image on the viewer. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better. I believe Dominar Rygel is retrieving items from the transport pods; we have a great deal of cleaning to accomplish. I was hoping I could prevail upon yourself, plus Chiana and Captain Crais... Chiana hasn’t fully recovered yet... to begin clearing the starburst chamber.”

“Ah. The starburst chamber,” D’Argo repeated. Even a cranky, still-addicted Luxan could tell that took precedence over yelling at Rygel. He glanced over at Jool. “And you...”

“I have requested Joolushko’s assistance in my chamber,” Pilot said imperturbably.

“Of... course.”

D’Argo still looked a little confused at the way everything was already arranged, but he dutifully collected a shovel and left the medlab. Jool hastily followed suit, carrying her materials, most likely not wanting to be present when Chiana recovered from the initial disorientation caused by the baritocin counteragent.

Through scattered DRDs, Pilot followed D’Argo’s progress down to the starburst chamber, where Crais was already shoveling jellfu into storage crates for transport. This left D’Argo with the unenviable task of peeling off the last few layers stuck to the wall. As soon as Chiana arrived, they could split the labor into one person peeling, one person shoveling, and one person moving the full containers to the airlock. Rygel, when he’d collected the cleaning supplies, could work on the lab. A simple enough division.

He would leave it to D’Argo, Crais, and Chiana to decide who would do what.

Pilot looked up as Jool entered. The Interion greeted him with, “Have any of them asked yet?” 

He knew what she meant. “No,” Pilot replied. They probably would soon, though, a while after Chiana arrived. “I’ll explain when they do.”

“Good. No one ever listens to *me*.” Jool came over to the console, tossing back her hair, and knelt down, joining several DRDs. She frowned, and applied the gelpad to the first patch of jellfu. “Say something if you feel anything strange, Pilot. But if you ask me, it was *very* rude of them, just leaving us to explain it to the others,” she huffed. “Besides, I didn’t even think they were speaking...”

+++

“Okay, first stop we pick up some of this Paganini...”

“That’s pargenin, Crichton,” Aeryn corrected. “Do you see anything that looks like an apothecary or a chemist’s?”

John looked up and down the city’s main drag. *Though that’s not sayin’ much.* Though the planet had other designated commerce cities, the one they’d picked seemed to be more of a town. Maybe even a village. Apart from its size, or lack thereof, though, it really wasn’t a bad commerce planet at all. *Well, not that I’ve seen the rest of it.* For once, the climate wasn’t too bad -- brisk without being cold. There were tall conifer-like trees between the buildings, and what looked like locals among the transients. “Um... over there?”

Aeryn followed his gaze, and nodded. “Apothecary. Good. We’ll get the pargenin and then look for provisions.”

When the bargaining had concluded, the clerk at the apothecary handed them a bag containing several sturdy beakers of pargenin and Aeryn asked about places to buy food. There was some brief confusion as the clerk mentioned first a restaurant across the street, then what sounded like it must be the local general store, before understanding and directing them to a warehouse across town. Food cubes? No, but a variety of other long-lasting provisions. Yes, they had a good reputation. He’d never heard of any tainted food there.

They headed back into the street, the bag safely tucked into John’s coat. Aeryn started to turn in the direction of the warehouse, but John caught at her sleeve. “Why don’t we check out that restaurant? I’m starving.”

Aeryn raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think that’s a little time-consuming? They’re waiting for us on Moya, you know.”

He *had* thought of that, after he tried to guess what Aeryn’s reaction would be. “Well, yeah... but they’ll live...” And he wanted to give them time to get more of the shoveling done. “Pilot’s keepin’ an eye on ’em... C’mon, Aeryn. It looks nice. They have *real food*. Don’t tell me you don’t want some real food?”

She paused, then smiled, looking a little surprised. “Actually... yes, it would make a nice change.”

*All right!* John grinned and started to cross the street. “Great! Let’s go see what today’s specials are...”

“Just keep in mind, Crichton, we’re not staying long enough for you to cause any trouble.”

“Me? Cause trouble? Never.”

“Yes, I know, it’s always the other guy. So trouble doesn’t find you, then.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about...”

Lunch was delicious.

###

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> The most _frustrating_ thing about this story was probably the title. I wandered through several and never did find one that really seemed to fit, so I just went with the first one and pushed on. For anyone wondering, "Should've Brought a Bag" is derived from the school lunch reference. But eventually the fic titled itself, albeit one which doesn't go very well at the beginning -- ATTACK OF THE JELLFU! I make no claim to own said jellfu, since I suspect it's a real substance appearing in cafeterias and family reunions around the world, and I'm pretty sure I've seen it in a certain college dining hall of my acquaintance.


End file.
